Summer  Etchings 


IN 


Colorado. 


BY 


ELIZA    GREATOREX. 


INTRODUCTION    BY 


GRACE    GREENWOOD. 


NEW    YORK: 
G.    P.    PUTNAM'S     SONS, 

FOURTH     AVENUE     AND     TWENTY-THIRD     STREET. 


f 


1^^. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1873,  by 

ELIZA.  GREATOREX, 
In  ihe  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Wasliington. 


La\gk,  Littlb  &  Co., 

PRINTERR,    KI.KCTROTVPERS    AND   STBREOTVPBR.n, 

I118  TO  114  WoiisTBK  Street,  N.  Y. 


P  ^  d  i  t  a  t  i  0  !^* 


O  you,  gentlemen  of  the  "  Fountain  Colony,"  who 
have  made  my  summer's  work  a  pleasure  and 
delight,  I  venture  to  dedicate  the  unpretending,  if 
inadequate,  results  of  that  work.  As  I  place,  this  morning, 
my  last  Colorado  drawing  in  my  portfolio,  I  look  from  the 
slight  picture  to  the  great  reality.  From  tlie  clear  lake 
where  the  mountain  streams  are  gathered,  I  mark  the  course 
)f  the  irrigating  channels  which  already  are  turning  the  wild 
site  of  the  New  Town  into  a  lovely  garden,  where  the  trees, 
planted  a  few  months  ago,  are  already  bringing  grateful 
shadows,  like  memories  of  your  old  homes,  over  the  land 
where  late  the  shy  antelope  grazed,  and  of  which  the  Indians 
made  for  the  whites  only  a  place  to  be  feared  and  shunned. 

Above  clustering  cottages  and  tall  church  spires  rise  the 
grand  Cheyenne  Mountain  and  the  mighty  Pike's  Peak, 
wearing,  to-day,  a  fresh  mantle  of  snow  ;  and  blue  skies  and 
sunlight  bless  and  crown  lordly  mountain  and  lowly  roof; 
only  in  my  heart  is  shadow  and  sadness  for  the  farewell 
which  I  must  speak  so  soon. 

This  effort  of  mine,  if  it  fails  in  all  else,  at  least  enables 


248010 


4  DEDICATION. 

me  to  express  my  admiration  for  the  courage  and  energy  of 
the  founders  of  this  Colony,  which  have  achieved  already  such 
great  success,  and  to  record  my  grateful  appreciation  of  the 
sympathy,  encouragement  and  hospitality,  which  welcomed 
and  sustained  my  summer's  etchings  in  Colorado. 

ELIZA   GREATOREX. 

Colorado  Springs, 

Sfft.  26,  1873. 


Title. 

First  Glimpse  at  Manitou. 

The  Ute  Pass. 

Manitou  Spring. 

The  Climb. 

Looking  Out. 

The  Home. 

The  Lodge. 

Tim  Bunker's  Pulpit. 

Lady  Ellen's  Bower. 

Major  Domo. 

Old  Pueblo. 

View  from  South  Pueblo. 

Monument  Park. 

In  the  Garden  of  the  Gods. 

Col.  Kittredge's  Ranch. 

Our  Camp  by  Pass  Creek. 

Twin  Lakes. 

The  Deserted  Mill. 

Montezuma  Mine. 

Fair  Play. 
The  New  Town. 


10  n* 


THEN  AND  NOW. 

WENTY  years  ago  there  fell  into  my  hands  a  vol- 
ume entitled,  "  Report  of  the  Exploring  Expedition 
to  the  Rocky  Mountains,  in  the  year  1 842  /  and  to 
Oregon  and  California,  in  the  years  i843-'44.  By  Brevet 
Captain  jf.  C.  Fremont,  of  the  Topographical  Engineers .'' 
This  volume,  though  somewhat  unwieldy  in  form,  and 
overweighted  with  scientific  terms,  had  for  me  all  the  charm 
of  a  wild  romance  — strange  and  stirring,  and  most  improba- 
ble— and  this  young  adventurer.  Brevet  Captain  J.  C. 
Fremont,  of  the  Topographical  Engineers,  became  a  first- 
class  hero  in  my  eyes.  A  sense  of  awful  remoteness  invested 
the  scenes  he  described  as  most  beautiful  and  picturesque 
with  a  sort  of  unearthly  solemnity.  The  nomadic  beings  he 
now  and  then  encountered,  in  the  mountains  and  on  the 
plains,  seemed  to  me  not  only  out  of  civilization,  but  of 
humanity — strange,  unreal,  uncanny  creatures — solitary,  sinis- 
ter and  terrible. 

I  cannot  remember  that  in  my  wildest  dream  I  ever 
pictured  myself  as  following  in  the  footsteps  of  the  brave 
young  "  Pathfinder  "• — as  ever  looking  with  my  own  eyes  on 
the  wonders  of  the  great  central  heights  and  grand  western 


6  INTRODUCTION. 

slope  of  the  continent.  The  vast  region  seemed  still  cur- 
tained away  from  nie  by  infinite  distance  and  myster)'. 
Captain  Fremont's  book — it  lies  before  me  now — is  illus- 
trated with  lithographs,  rough,  but  truthful.  When  he 
comes  to  the  march  from  the  Arkansas  to  the  Platte,  along 
the  eastern  base  or  spurs  of  the  great  range,  he  gives  a 
really  fine  view  of  Pike's  Peak — the  mountain  of  mountains 
for  situation — lording  it  over  a  vast,  magnificent  area.  On 
July  8th,  he  says:  "We  caught  this  morning  a  view  of 
Pike's  Peak,  but  it  appeared  for  a  moment  only,  as  clouds 
rose  early  over  the  mountains,  and  shrouded  them  in  mist 
and  rain  all  day."  July  loth  presents  another  picture  : 
"  Snow  fell  heavily  on  the  mountains  during  the  night,  and 
Pike's  Peak  this  morning  is  luminous  and  grand." 

One  day  the  entire  party  had  a  buffalo-hunt ;  another  day, 
an  Indian  fight ;  on  July  nth  they  killed  a  large  grizzly  bear. 
They  subsisted  chiefly  on  game ;  and,  when  buffalo,  bear, 
deer  and  mountain  sheep  failed  them,  they  did  not  despise 
the  small  ]:)rairie  dog.  For  a  time,  attached  to  this  party, 
was  Kit  Carson — prince  of  guides  and  mountaineers — a  noble 
son  of  nature,  whose  pattern  no  longer  exists.  They  found 
Indians,  unhappily,  more  abundant  than  game;  Sioux,  Ara- 
pahocs,  Cheyennes,  Osages,  Utis,  and  Pawnees,  made  that 
region  their  war-ground.  Yet,  overswept  as  it  was  by  surge 
after  surge  of  barbarism,  Captain  Fremont,  with  the  eye  of  a 
prophet,  saw  in  it  a  country  "  admirably  adapted  to  agricul- 
tural purposes,  and  capable  of  supporting  a  large  pastoral 
population." 


INTRODUCTION.  7 

On  the  17th  he  entered  the  valley  of  the  rapid,  and  always 
beautiful  stream,  called  by  the  old  French  voyagcurs,  La 
Fontaine  qui  Boiiille,  from  one  of  the  many  mineral  springs 
on  its  banks.  These  waters  were  even  then  celebrated,  and 
Fremont  determined  to  seek  them  out.  Leaving  his  men  at 
the  entrance  of  the  canon,  he  rode  on  up  the  river,  though, 
as  he  says,  "  the  clouds,  which  had  been  gathering  all  the 
afternoon  in  the  mountains,  began  to  roll  down  their  sides, 
and  a  storm  so  violent  burst  upon  me,  that  it  appeared  I  had 
entered  the  store-house  of  the  thunder-storms.  About  sun- 
set I  came  upon  a  large,  smooth  rock,  where  the  water  from 
several  springs  was  bubbling  up,  in  the  midst  of  a  white  in- 
crustation, with  which  it  had  covered  a  portion  of  the  rock. 
As  this  did  not  correspond  w^ith  the  description  given  me  by 
the  hunters,  of  the  great  spring,  I  did  not  stop  to  taste  the 
waters,  but,  dismounting,  walked  a  little  way  further  up  the 
stream,  and,  passing  through  a  narrow  thicket,  stepped 
directly  on  a  huge,  flat  rock,  in  the  upper  part  of  which,  ap- 
parently formed  by  deposition,  was  a  beautiful  white  basin, 
overhung  by  wild  currant-bushes.  Tn  this  the  cold,  clear 
water  bubbled  up,  kept  in  constant  motion  by  the  escaping 
gas,  and  overflowing  the  rock,  which  it  had  covered  with  a 
crust  of  glistening  white.  A  deer,  which  had  been  drinking 
at  the  spring,  was  startled  by  my  approach,  and,  leaping 
across  the  river,  bounded  off  up  the  mountain.  I  had  all 
day  refrained  from  drinking,  and  now  lay  down  beside  the 
basin  and  drank  heartily  of  the  delightful  water."  The  next 
morning  the  command  encamped  at  the  springs,  and  "  spent 


8  INTRODUCTION. 

a  very  pleasant  day,"  drinking  their  fill.  Fremont  speaks 
enthusiastically  of  the  rare  beauty  of  the  spot :  "  At  the  foot 
of  lofty  mountains,  which  sweep  closely  around,  shutting  up 
the  little  valley  in  a  kind  of  a  cove." 

From  the  windows  of  the  principal  hotel  of  Majiitoii,  the 
most  fashionable  and  delightful  watering  place  of  Colorado, 
I  look  out  this  summer  afternoon  on  the  scene  of  Brevet 
Captain  Fremont's  lonely  evening  ride  of  thirty  years  ago. 
How  changed,  and  yet  unchanged,  the  lovely  valley  of  the 
fountain  and  its  grand  surroundings  !  Nature  holds  her  own 
wonderfully.  Old  Pike's  Peak  presents  the  same  majestic 
front,  the  river  rushes  and  shoots  along  toward  the  thirsty 
plains,  the  ancient  brotherhood  of  "  Medicine  Springs  "  still 
boil  and  bubble — "  the  store-house  of  the  thunder-storms  " 
is  far  from  being  exhausted.  Almost  every  day  there  is  fine 
artillery  practice  among  the  peaks,  and  crags  and  forges,  and 
"  the  big  drops  come  dancing  to  the  earth."  Yet,  in  spite 
of  thunder  and  rain,  all  is  life  and  gayety  in  the  little  cove- 
like valley.  There  go  a  gallant,  mounted  party — not  soldiers 
or  mountaineers — but  brave  tourists,  for  the  larger  part 
ladies,  galloping  off  over  the  foothills,  to  take  the  new  trail 
to  Pike's  Peak — the  very  peak  which  Fremont  seems  not  to 
have  thought  of  scaling.  You  may  visit  the  great  Manitou 
Spring  2X  any  hour  of  the  day,  without  danger  of  starting  a 
deer — that  is,  one  of  the  wild,  quadrupedal  sort.  From 
any  one  of  the  heights  above  the  valley,  you  may  look  out 
on  the  plains  all  day  long  without  beholding  a  buffalo  herd 
careering  along,  with  its  valiant  leader  plunging  ahead  ;  but 


INTRODUCTION.  9 

you  may  chance  to  see  a  train  of  Denver  and  Rio  Grande 
Narrow  Gauge  cars  thundering  along,  after  a  sturdy  snorting 
little  locomotive,  and  making  better  than  the  best  Buffalo 
time.  The  noble  savage — encounters  with  whom  added 
such  pleasing  variety  to  Fremont's  expedition,  and  in 
whose  honor  the  party  were  gallantly  accoutred,  arm.ed  with 
Hall's  carbines,  and  accompanied  by  a  twelve-pound  how- 
itzer— he  also  has  disappeared  from  the  sacred  waters  he 
once  haunted.  His  wigwam  is  pitched  no  more  on  the 
banks  of  the  Fountain  ;  but,  instead,  we  see  the  tent  of 
the  artist  and  the  jolly  "  camper."  Should  the  mild  and 
melancholy  Ute,  afflicted  by  some  one  of  the  ills  that 
aboriginal  flesh  is  heir  to,  visit  the  fount  of  healing  opened 
in  the  rock  for  his  pious  sires,  instead  of  the  howitzer  of 
the  Pathfinder,  he  would  be  called  upon  to  face  the  camera 
of  the  photographer.  Even  the  grizzly  has  departed.  If 
you  fancy  you  have  lost  a  bear  about  that  size,  and  go 
hunting  him  for  days  and  days,  he  never  turns  up  here- 
abouts. At  Maniton  we  have  a  small  infantine  cinnamon, 
which  we  are  obliged  to  content  ourselves  with  ;  but  he 
is  sadly  degenerate — having  been  brought  up  by  hand, 
petted  and  spoiled  by  tender-hearted  women.  Indeed,  so 
clever  and  moral  is  he,  that  we  should  hardly  be  surprised 
to  hear  any  day  of  his  picking  out  the  Ten  Commandments 
from  a  pile  of  Sunday-school  cards,  responding  to  the  creed, 
and  playing  on  the  melodeon. 

Could  those  brave  explorers  whose  camp-fires  lighted  up 
the  grand  glooms  of  this  lovely,  lonely  valley,  and  shone  on 


lO  INTRODUCTION. 

these  rushing  waters,  that  bahny  summer  night,  thirty  years 
ago,  come  back  to  the  springs  and  banks  of  the  fountain  to- 
day, would  they  like  the  picture  ?  They  would  see  hotels, 
cottages,  bath-houses,  summer-houses,  bowling-alleys.  They 
would  see  stage-coaches,  ambulances,  busses  and  barouches, 
horsemen  and  horsewomen  dashing  hither  and  thither.  Sara- 
toga trunks,  pianos  and  fiddles,  have  invaded  the  solemn 
scene.  The  inspiring  war-whoop  is  silenced  forever,  but  the 
Italian  bravura  wakes  the  grand  old  echoes  of  the  gorge. 
The  war-dance  and  the  scalp-dance  are  seen  no  more,  but 
the  "  Boston  Dip,"  and  the  "New  York  Glide"  can  be  be- 
held almost  any  night  in  the  halls  of  the  Manitoii. 

So  peaceful,  proper,  and  comfortable  is  our  life  here,  that 
some  romantic  and  adventurous  spirits,  growing  desperate, 
break  with  civilization  and  luxury  here  below,  and  follow 
Nature  to  her  loftiest  rocky  fastnesses,  clutching  frantically 
at  the  rude  fringe  of  her  barbaric  robe.  In  other  words,  they 
go  "camping"  afar,  in  the  great  mountain  parks,  beside  the 
snow-fed  rivers  and  the  glacier-born  lakes,  nigh  unto  the 
cold,  white  summits,  which  are  white  and  cold  forever.  On 
such  a  bold  quest  after  Nature  and  simplicity — the  essence 
of  life — the  exaltation  of  beauty — grandeur  that  verges  on 
the  terrible — the  fine  terror  that  is  lost  in  sublimity — went 
we  with  a  great  caravan  of  pilgrims,  among  whom  was  the 
artist  whose  masterly  sketches  will  picture  the  story  of  our 
wanderings  far  better  than  words  of  mine  can  tell  it.  We 
found  beauty  indescribable — grandeur  unimaginable — delight 
uncommunicable,  ever^^where ;  but  no  where    the   expected 


INTRODUCTION.  II 

vvildness,  savageness  and  desolation.  We  looked  here  and 
there,  with  a  sort  of  fearful  desire,  for  dangerous  wild  ani- 
mals ;  but  though  we  traversed  vast  natural  parks,  explored 
mighty  canons,  and  scaled  great  mountain  heights,  we  were 
not  gratified  by  even  the  sight  of  a  cayote  or  brown  bear's 
cub.  Even  man  was  tame.  Not  a  Ute  or  an  Arapaho 
crossed  our  path.  Wherever  was  human  life,  we  found  the 
prosaic,  pushing,  pertinacious  Caucasian.  We  ascended 
Mount  Lincoln.  Above  timber  line  we  found  miners,  work- 
ing where  it  seemed  that  only  eagles  could  cling,  slowly  cut- 
ting into  the  mountain's  bare  breast  to  get  at  his  heart  of  gold 
— and  at  fourteen  thousand  feet  were  other  miners,  braining 
his  bald  old  head  for  the  treasures  stored  up  there.  High 
up  where  the  clouds  break  and  the  eternal  snows  rest,  men 
have  broken  the  stone  lids  of  God's  mighty  caskets,  shutting 
over  the  precious  secrets  of  Creation ;  deep  down  in 
solemn,  shadowy  gorges,  they  unearth  shining,  golden  grains, 
hidden  in  depth  and  darkness,  for  centuries  of  centuries. 
The  world  is  storming  the  Rocky  Mountains.  Like  the 
great  sea  which  once  beat  against  their  base,  civilization  is 
surging  around  them — rushing  through  their  wild  passes, 
and  now  and  then  throwing  a  wave  over  their  loftiest  sum- 
mits. They  are  not  only  a  grand  store-house  of  storms,  and 
a  treasure-house  of  incalculable  wealth,  but,  what  is  better, 
they  are  to  become,  with  their  wonderful  parks,  their  lakes, 
rivers,  gorges,  woods,  and  waterfalls,  the  great  pleasure- 
ground  of  the  world. 

GRACE    GREENWOOD. 


g^  in 


HIS  is  to  be  a  most  real  story  of  our  summer  wan- 
derings in  this  strange  and  vast  country,  but  I  am 
sorely  tempted  to  make  believe  for  a  beginning  that 
the  little  camp  on  the  title-page  is  our  dwelling,  that  the  fire 
of  sweet-scented  pine  close  by,  and  the  full  moon  springing 
up,  Colorado  fashion,  out  of  the  great  distance,  are  to  light 
us  to  our  bed  of  wild-roses  pulled  from  the  bushes  that  are 
flushing  all  the  prairie,  while  the  brooks  make  lullaby,  and 
the  Cottonwood  and  young  oak  trees  rustle  in  this,  the 
purest  of  the  airs  that  fan  God's  blessed  earth. 

How  sweet  would  be  a  dream  of  home  under  a  clean  white 
tent,  glistening  in  the  moonlight !  with  a  mind  at  rest  from 
all  care,  content  with  assurance  of  bread  for  the  morrow ; 
and  a  draught  of  water  from  the  spring  that  bubbles  near  my 
seat.  But  in  plain  truth  we  are  going  to  our  little  cottage 
studio  and  sleeping-room — an  offshoot  of  the  fine  hotel  in 
Manitou,  where  we  breakfast,  dine,  and  sup,  making  our 
choice  from  the  endless  variety  of  the  bill  of  fare,  served  by 


14  SUMMER   ETCHINGS   IN   COLORADO. 

deft  and  knowing  Chinamen — our  cottage  being  under  the 
particular  care  of  Pah,  the  most  perfect  of  them  all. 

But  if  the  tent  is  not  our  very  own,  we  have  a  close  inter- 
est in  the  friends  whose  habitation  it  is,  and  a  fresh  and  rare 
pleasure  in  listening  to  the  talk  of  the  "  tent  master," 
Colonel  Enoch  Steen,  who,  with  his  good  wife  and  son,  have 
always  a  warm  welcome  ready  for  us.  Nellie  has  noted 
down  one  of  his  stories,  which  will  appear  presently. 


FEW  yards  from  our  cottage  is  the  glen  from  which 
we  had  our  first  peep  at  Manitou.  It  is  thronged 
with  little  groves  of  cottonwood  trees  and  tangled, 
sweet-smelling  things,  that  twine  themselves  into  delightful 
spidery-shaped  tables  and  chairs,  and  the  little  clear  patches 
of  ground  between  are  themselves  good  to  sit  on,  all  car- 
peted with  fragrant  grasses  and  wild  flowers.  Here  is  a  wild- 
rose  bush,  which  yesterday  made  itself  into  a  seat  for  a  visi- 
tor, and  still  keeps  the  form  as  if  inviting  the  occupant  to 
try  it  again.  We  will  sit  here  to-day  arranging  notes  and 
discussing  the  long  journey  which  has  ended  at  Manitou  for 
the  present. 

After  a  luxurious,  restful  visit  to  the  home  of  a  friend  in 
Milwaukie,  we  started  ten  days  ago,  all  in  earnest  for  our 
summer's  work,  with  high  hopes  and  well  filled  lunch-baskets. 
As  we  entered  on  the  long  stretches  of  prairie,  finely  culti- 
vated by  the  German  settlers,  we  noticed  the  German  element 
all  around,  and  heard  little  but  that  language  spoken  in  the 
cars.  On  one  side  a  father  taught  two  little  girls  out  of  a 
German  picture-book,  on  the  other  gathered  a  group  of  coarse 


I6  FIRST   PEEP   AT   MANITOU. 

'.vorkmen.  In  front  of  us  an  artist  gave  voice  to  his  strong 
prejudice  against  the  German  population  of  Wisconsin,  see- 
ing nothing  good  therein  except  the  rude  force  which  con- 
quers and  tills  the  soil.  But  1  watched  the  father  and  chil- 
dren, their  delight  in  the  pictures  from  which  he  taught 
them,  and  their  sweet,  loving  ways  with  each  other,  and  I 
felt  there  must  be  something  more  and  better. 

Here  I  am  interrupted  by  Nellie's  laugh  at  the  scraps  she 
had  written  while  undergoing  the  shaking  of  the  cars  ;  but, 
after  reading  her  notes,  we  solemnly  pronounce  them  the 
best  of  the  three  sets,  and  vote  them  the  place  of  honor,  I 
stipulating  only  for  one  remembrance  of  a  group  of  Indians 
on  the  plains.  We  cam.e  in  sight  of  them  at  the  close  of  a 
violent  storm,  just  as  the  heavy  clouds  had  given  way  to  a 
great  belt  of  sunset  glory;  in  the  very  focus  of  which  they 
were  encamped.  Like  very  demons  they  appeared,  in 
their  motley  garb,  and  restless,  unceasing  motion,  horses  and 
dogs,  men  and  women,  mingling  and  circling  round  their 
camp.  A  living  picture  it  has  left  with  me.  and  also  a 
strong  regret  that  I  could  not  paint  it. 


E  are  here  !  not  by  enchantment,  but  ah-nost  as  sur- 
prisingly and  suddenly,  for  we  are  whirled  over 
riv^ers  and  prairies  by  the  Great  Western  train.  We 
felt  as  if  we  were  chasing  the  sun,  and  had  come  so  near 
catching  him  that  he  had  to  retreat  in  hot  haste  without  his 
usual  retinue  of  red  and  purple  clouds,  dropping  like  a  fier}' 
ball  into  the  straight  horizon  line,  without,  as  the  Germans 
say,  "  making  any  circumstances  about  it." 

At  Omaha,  Nebraska,  began  our  experience  of  real  West- 
ern traveling.  There  we  took  the  San  Francisco  train. 
What  a  hot  run  we  had  from  car  to  car,  cumbered  with  bags, 
baskets,  parasols,  shawls,  and  the  innumerable  articles  to  the 
torment  of  which  one  always  slavishly  submits  in  travel- 
ing, despite  the  most  cunning  skill  in  packing  trunks,  and 
the  sternest  resolutions  against  bundles.  In  vain  we 
obscured  the  daylight  in  the  door  of  one  car  after  another — 
hopelessly  full  were  all  of  them,  till,  when  it  became  too  late 
to  retreat,  the  train   being   in   motion,  by  mathematical  ar- 

2 


i8  xki.i.ik's  railroad  notes. 

rangemcnt  of  baL;s  and  boxes,  and  by  compression  into  small- 
est endurable  space  of  various  scattered  and  outlying  children, 
we  managed  to  secure  places.  There  was  a  "  water  front  " 
to  our  "  eligible  site  " — the  damp  and  oft-visited  locality  of 
the  ice-water  can  ;  one  infant  Bacchus,  overgrown  and 
obstreperous,  sacrificed  a  whole  family  of  brethren  and  sis- 
ters to  bringing  him  supplies  of  drink,  at  last  subsiding  into 
satisfactory  silence — internally  congealed,  as  I  firmh-  believe, 
by  the  constant  application  of  iced  fluid. 

With  the  rushing  of  the  train  came  a  lively  breeze  ;  it 
caught  the  broad  hat  of  a  handsome  miner,  and  whiz  !  it 
went  out  of  the  window  ;  but  he  coolly  remarked  to  a  sym- 
pathizing friend,  "Oh!  it  don't  matter  in  the  least,  I  always 
carry  two;  "  taking,  as  he  spoke,  something  from  his  pocket 
which  at  least  covered  his  head. 

Many  of  these  miners  were  in  the  car.  Tall  and  slim, 
most  of  them,  with  hair  dark  as  night  ;  deep-set,  expressive 
eyes ;  heavy  moustache  and  blue  flannel  shirt.  A  famous 
combination  of  hero  qualifications. 

A  farmer  \\ho  sits  near  us  and  likes  to  talk,  shows  us 
where  the  trees  grow  "  natcral,"  and  where  they  are  "sot 
out."  He  tells  us  the  names  of  the  valleys  as  we  pass 
through  them,  the  Platte,  the  Elkhorn,  etc.,  etc.  So  the 
day  wears  on,  hot  and  tiresome.  At  evening  we  see  In- 
dians, Utcs.  Their  eyes,  soft,  dark  and  snaky,  attract  our 
attention  first  ;  then  their  wonderful,  composite  costume, 
every  civilized  garment  represented  by  at  least  some  portion 
of  its   original   entirety.     One  knight   of  the  scalping-knife 


NELLIE'S    RAILROAD   NOTES.  ig 

we  will  take  as  a  sample.  Part  of  a  pair  of  trousers  on 
his  legs  ;  around  his  waist  a  light-colored  skin  of  some 
animal,  also  a  portion  of  \-ellow  blanket,  in  unquestionable 
need  of  soap  and  water  ;  from  one  shoulder  hung,  in  Italian 
style,  a  brilliant  red  blanket.  He  carried  bow  and  arrows. 
His  jaws  were  heavy,  his  hair  straight  and  black,  a  savagely 
grand  figure,  despite  the  mean  part  of  his  attire,  bearing 
himself  with  gra\'e  dignit}-,  which  made  it  easy  for  us  to 
picture  him  once  the  monarch  of  the  plains  ;  }-et,  he  stood 
there  now,  tr}'ing  to  sell  a  few  poor  gewgaws  of  bead  work, 
while  dirty  squaws,  with  their  dusky  papooses  slung  over 
their  shoulders,  begged  for  a  few  cents.  A  squaw  came 
near  and  touched  my  dress  and  traveling  satchel,  expressing 
by  her  motions  that  the  pale  face  had  the  good  things, 
and  should  give  her  and  her  baby  something.  On  receiving 
a  little  money,  she  nodded,  and  bestowed  on  me  an  Indian 
benediction. 

The  whistle  from  the  engine  cut  the  "  pow-wow  "  short. 
Conductors  called  "  ail-aboard  !"  the  train  moved  on,  night 
closed  in,  lamps  were  lit,  sleepy  babies  dozed  off  into 
sounder  sleep,  shawl  straps  w'ere  undone,  pillows  made  up 
out  of  various  bundles,  and  we  each  tried  to  find  the  least 
tzvisfy  posture,  and  to  get  a  rest,  if  not  a  sleep.  Da}-light 
brings  you  to  a  dim  consciousness  of  being  in  an  upside- 
down  condition — somewhere  ;  your  head  hangs  limp  over 
the  arm  of  the  seat,  your  feet  are  all  pins  and  needles, 
existence  means  concentrated  misery,  till  }-ou  shake  up  the 
little  remains  of  spirit  and  courage  within  }-ou,  and  face  life 


20  NELLIE  S   RAILROAD   NOTES, 

bravely  again.  Had  we  succeeded  in  getting  a  Pullman 
sleeping-car,  there  would  have  been  nothing  of  this  ;  but, 
unfortunately,  there  were  no  places  left  for  us,  so  we  have 
to  put  a  new  experience  as  gain  against  loss  of  ease. 

Another  day,  whirled  over  the  prairies  by  steam,  we  were 
thankful  for  cool  air  and  lovely  skies,  but  began  to  long 
for  something  to  vary  the  unending  stretches  of  dry  blue- 
green  grass,  with  the  prairie  dogs  sitting  each  so  pertly 
at  the  entrance  to  their  little  homes. 

At  each  station  was  a  crowd  whence  peered  many  an 
anxious  expectant  face,  watching  the  car  windows  to  catch 
a  glimpse  of  some  long-awaited  friend,  who  was  to  join 
the  Western  life.  Many  gushing  brides  and  grooms  we 
saw,  and  they  evidently  felt  that  the  Great  West  was 
made  for  the  expanse  of  feeling.  Arms  closed  round  the 
beloved,  hair  flowed  in  waves  of  fla.K  or  raven  over  His 
shoulder,  and  vows  of  fidelity  were  exchanged  to  the  sound 
of  the  puffing  steam-engine. 

At  last  Cheyenne,  our  changing  point,  was  reached.  We 
felt  homeless  as  we  left  our  short  refuge  in  the  car  ;  but 
the  train  went  on  to  San  Francisco,  and  so  we  say  adieu 
to  it,  and  stand  on  the  rough  platform,  waiting  for  the 
train  to  Denver,  which  is  behind  time.  Close  beside  the 
platform  is  the  Hotel  and  refreshment-room.  Negro  waiters 
are  on  the  piazza  ringing  bells  furiously,  and  standing  in 
black  contrast  to  the  glaring  white  of  the  houses.  The 
bells  were  the  onl)'  cheerful  things  at  Cheyenne.  The 
clouds  rolled  dark   as  ink  overhead,  hiding  the  mountains, 


NELLIES   RAILROAD   NOTES.  21 

lightning  flashed,  great  drops  of  hail  came  down  and  drove 
us  into  the  small  station,  already  filled  with  travelers,  most 
of  them  emigrants,  in  sadly  tumbled  muslin  dresses  and 
wonderful  headgear,  ga}%  but  not  odorous,  witli  many-hucd 
flowers  ;  and  the  poor  never-left-out-of-the-play  baby  kept 
up  the  unfailing  protest  of  suffering  infancy.  But  the 
storm  cleared,  as  it  always  does  clear,  the  mountains  began 
to  rise  up  in  the  soft  hazy  distance,  our  train  came,  and 
the  eighty  or  one  hundred  miles  to  Denver  was  a  ride 
of  joy  and  delight.  The  prairie  grass  was  fresh  aufl  green, 
the  prairie  dogs,  after  being  confined  to  the  house  by  bad 
^\•eather.  came  out  for  an  airing,  w'atching  the  dragon  engine 
and  train  from  their  hilly  seats ;  the  youthful  and  timid 
of  the  community  dive  down  stairs  as  the  monster  ap- 
proaches, the  old  and  wise  stay  watching  it  gravely.  Ante- 
lopes, most  graceful  of  animals,  dart  along,  tr}'ing  to  race 
with  the  engine.  We  have  seen  no  Buffalo,  only  a  whiten- 
ing skull  lying  here  and  there.  The  herds  of  cattle  from  the 
ranches  by  the  railroad  are  the  most  excited  and  affected  by 
the  trains ;  a  vast  herd  led,  by  a  wise  old  cow-mother, 
come  staring  stock  still,  till  there  is  barely  time  for 
their  escape.  IVIany  a  one  is  sacrificed  to  a  too  daring 
spirit,  and  leaves  whitening  bones  along  the  track,  unheeded 
warnings  to  other  herds.  Nearer  and  nearer  we  come  in 
sight  of  the  grand  circle  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  Every 
tint  and  hue  of  color  and  light  they  have  gathered  into 
their  great  heart,  and  every  change  in  the  air  and  sky  is 
reflected  deep  and  strong  on  their  mighty  sides  and  peaks, 


22  NELLIES    RAILROAD   NOTES. 

from  deepest,  darkest  purple  to  white  gleaming  siK^er.  It 
is  a  fitting  boundary  line  to  this  awful  earth  ocean  over 
which  we  have  been  passing  for  five  days  and  nights  of 
travel  since  we  left  New  York,  and  we  descend  from  the 
car  in  this  busy,  wide-awake,  intensely  living,  new  city  of 
Denver,  fully  convinced  that  we  have  indeed  crossed  the 
plains,  and  are  really  in  the  Great  Far  West. 

While  sketching  this  morning,  by  the  camp  close  to  our 
cottage,  I  see  a  modest  little  face  peeping  at  me  out  of  the 
wagon  that  Norah  drew  last  evening.  By  and  by  a  slight 
fuss  of  prinking  up,  and  there  comes  to  me  through  the 
brushwood  the  sweetest  figure  one  can  imagine.  A  cotton 
dress,  of  odd  pattern,  short  and  loose,  only  at  the  waist 
trimly  belted  in.  A  close  straw  hat,  tied  down  so  that  but  a 
little  of  the  delicate  face  could  be  seen  ;  hands,  holding  ner- 
vously a  great  umbrella  ;  and,  with  a  conscious,  shy  look, 
the  little  woman  comes  close  and  speaks:  Was  I  sketching? 
Would  I  let  her  look?  She  was  so  sorry  not  to  ask  me  into 
the  camp,  but  she  had  been  sick,  and  it  was  so  poor  a  place, 
she  was  ashamed  of  it  ;  but  she  had  seen  the  young  ladies, 
and  heard  them  talking  about  the  horses.  Would  they  like 
to  ride?  If  there  were  side-saddles  they  might  have  the 
horses,  and  welcome  ;  slie  had  a  side-saddle,  but  had  sold  it 
when  they  left  their  home,  far  away  in  Missouri.  It  had 
taken  forty  days  to  come  in  their  heavy  wagon  over  the 
prairie;  and  she  had  not  been  very  happy  since  coming  here. 
Was  her  husband  with  her  ?  Oh,  yes!  she  thought  I  must 
have  seen  him  ;   he  was   painting  the  cottages,   and  did  not 


NELLIE  S    RAILR(^AD    NOTES.  23 

look  much  like  himself  doing  such  work;  but  Will  h;id  come 
for  her  sake,  and  was  ready  to  do  any  kind  of  labor  if  she 
could  only  get  well  here  ;  they  had  left  a  beautiful  farm  in 
Bates  Co.,  Missouri,  where  everything  but  money  was 
plentiful,  and  the  taxes  were  heavy.  She  had  been  a  school- 
teacher;  and  then  came  rather  a  sad  story  of  her  life,  and  of 
how  Will,  rough  as  he  looked,  had  nursed  her  himself  from 
death's  door.  Since  he  had  been  so  much  away  from  her  at 
his  work,  their  horses,  and  the  noble  dog  l}'ing  under  the 
wagon,  had  been  her  best  companions;  they  had  been 
brought  up  on  the  farm,  and  it  was  strange  to  hear  of  their 
attempts  to  run  off  home,  and  their  almost  human  behavior. 
I  asked  if  she  could  drive  them?  Oh,  yes,  she  said  ;  then  I 
promised  I  would  go  out  with  her  to-morrow. 

As  I  stood  with  her  in  tlie  hot  sunlight,  and  looked  into 
her  patient  face,  I  felt  all  the  romance  which  this  western 
world  is  gathering  into  its  history,  and  somewhat  realized 
the  poetry,  the  human  interests  that  must  mingle  with  and 
harmonize  this  vast,  majestic  scenery. 

As  we  discuss  the  subject  of  the  "  harnessing  up,"  to 
which  my  little  friend's  strength  is  hardly  equal,  a  young 
and  handsome  man  passed,  raising  his  hat  in  salute.  The 
little  lady  said  he  was  a  neighbor  in  some  sort,  having 
pitched  his  tent  close  to  theirs  for  three  days.  He  was  a 
gentleman  ;  had  not  succeeded  in  getting  anything  to  do 
here;  he  was  telling  her  his  story  last  evening.  His  mother 
is  well  to  do,  and  keeps  writing  for  him  to  come  home, 
but  he  had   been  willful  about  leaving  home,  and  hated  to 


24  KELLIE.S   RAILROAD    NOTES, 

go  back  poor;  he  had  been  away  seven  years;  he  had  left 
a  girl  he  liked,  too,  and  little  by  little  had  given  up 
writing,  until  now  he  was  ashamed  to  write,  though  he  knew 
she  was  still  single,  maybe  for  his  sake  !  If  he  could  only 
break  down  his  pride  enough  to  go  and  ask  her  to  forgive 
him  !  There  is  no  gentle  twilight,  no  soft  zephyr,  no  pen- 
sive shade,  by  babbling  brook,  to  lend  romance  to  the 
story;  we  both  stand  in  the  hot  sun,  tired  and  brown,  in 
my  hand  I  hold  the  ink-bottle  as  well  as  my  sketch-book, 
while  my  umbrella  is  stuck  rather  shakily  in  my  belt.  As 
I  listen  I  scratch  some  trees  into  the  background  of  the 
sketch  made  by  Norah  last  evening  of  the  camp-wagon 
and  three  horses ;  fortunately  to-day  the  animals  have 
screened  themselves  behind  some  shrubs,  and  I  dash  the 
heavy  foliage  over  the  limbs  of  the  wise  and  home-regret- 
ting horses,  thus  saving  Miss  Norah's  "  drawing  from  life  " 
from  sharp  criticism.  My  little  friend  has  gone  back  to 
get  the  dinner  ready,  the  blue  smoke  wreathes  around  the 
tree-tops,  and  a  right  savory  smell  of  cooking  reminds  me 
that  I  must  "  to  house,"  and  try  to  get  rid  of  some  of  this 
red  earth  that  clings  so  tight,  before  the  dinner  at  the  hotel 
is  ready.     Oh  !  why  are  not  we  also  dwellers  in  tents? 


Iq  ^^|e  Ute  Pass. 


INE  is  a  story  forty  years  long,"  said  the  colonel 
to  nfe,  as  I  sat  with  him  in  front  of  the  camp. 
The  fire  was  dying  out,  pans  and  dishes  had  been 
W' ashed  and  put  by  in  leafy  cupboards,  and  Col.  Steen, 
sitting  on  the  low  pine  table,  began  to  tell  me  something 
of  his  life. 

"Yes,  it's  a  long  story,  but  I'll  only  tell  you  to-day  how 
we  were  the  first  dragoons  that  ever  crossed  the  plains.  Our 
first  expedition  was  made  in  1832,  from  Rock  Island,  Illi- 
nois, just  after  the  Black  Hawk  War.  In  '34  we  formed 
anotheir expedition  to  ascend  the  Red  River;  we  were  then 
at  Fort  Gibson,  which  was  the  end  of  our  first  march.  Gen. 
Leavenworth  had  commenced  this  Red  River  exploration. 
When  we  had  reached  Pawnee  Peak,  called  also  Crosslimbcrs, 
the  general,  the  doctor,  and  both  staff  officers  died.  Col. 
H.  Dodge  took  command.  Our  number,  at  starting,  was  six 
hundred  men,  but  death  soon  brought  us  down  to  one 
hundred  and  nineteen.     With  ten  days'  provisions  we  started 


26  COLONEL   ENOCH    STEEN'S   STORY. 

after  the  Indians,  leaving  two  camps  of  sick  soldiers  on  the 
road.  The  summer  was  the  hottest  I  ever  knew,  and  for 
eighteen  days  we  had  neither  salt  nor  bread,  and  lived  on 
horse  and  buffalo  meat.  However,  we  accomplished  one 
object — making  trouble  with  the  Indians.  With  one  tribe, 
which  had  been  terribly  hostile,  we  found  great  difficulty; 
but  the  chances  of  war  had  given  us  an  opportunity  for 
peace  overtures.  At  one  time,  when  only  old  men  and 
women  with  children  had  been  left  at  home,  their  camp  had 
been  attacked  by  a  hostile  tribe,  who  killed  all  but  one 
woman.  At  my  suggestion  our  party  bought  her  out  of  the 
hands  of  these  enemies,  and  returned  her  safely  to  her  own 
people.  This  act  was  accepted  as  a  peace-offering;  our 
treaty  was  made,  and  our  constant  fear  of  being  murdered 
was  dispelled.  Once,  our  half-breed  interpreter  was  so  terri- 
fied by  this  tribe  that  he  refused  to  fulfill  his  office,  but  a 
threat  of  speedy  death  brought  him  and  his  cowardice  round 
to  the  other  side,  and  he  obeyed  all  commands. 

"  The  Spring  before  this  {'2,3)  Judge  Martin,  then  living  in 
Texas,  had  ventured  too  far  from  home,  having  with  him  his 
little  son.  The  Indians  caught  and  killed  him,  keeping  the 
little  boy  and  the  horses.  One  day,  while  our  colonel  was 
talking  witli  the  Indians,  I  recognized  among  them  a  negro 
whom  I  had  seen  in  the  States.  He  told  me  one  of  the  red- 
skins was  hiding  a  white  boy  from  the  other  Indians  in  the 
woods.  We  called  a  council,  and  speedily  communicated 
with  the  friendly  Indian,  who  soon  came  among  us,  holding 
the  little  white  boy  in  his  arms.     The  poor  little  fellow  was 


COLONEL  ENOCH   STEEN'S   STORY.  2"] 

crying  wildly,  thinking  his  hist  hour  had  come.  The  colonel 
called  to  him,  '  Come  here,  sonny.'  The  boy  clapped  his 
hands,  and  with  a  fresh,  but  this  time  a  joyful,  burst  of  tears, 
cried  out,  '  Oh  !  are  you  viy  people  ? '  The  little  face  shone 
through  the  tears  with  such  joy  as  I  never  saw.  I  don't 
think  there  were  five  men  among  us  who  were  not  crying. 

"  '  You  won't  let  the  Indians  kill  me,  will  you  ?  They  stole 
my  pony,  and  if  you  get  it  for  me  I  won't  give  you  any 
trouble  ;   only  let  me  ride  to  my  home  with  you. 

"Poor  little  fellow!  it  was  enough  to  melt  the  stoutest 
hearted  of  us ;  he  could  not  have  been  more  than  eight 
years  old,  quite  naked,  all  bruised  and  sore  from  the  tor- 
menting of  the  Indian  children,  who  had  amused  themselves 
by  shooting  arrows  at  him.  We  gave  him  a  gun  and  some 
povvder,  for  the  good  fellow  who  had  dealt  so  mercifully 
with  him,  and  who  showed  deep  grief  at  parting  from  the 
little  pale  face. 

"  We  managed  among  us  to  contribute  sundry  articles 
of  attire,  which  the  tailor  of  the  company  converted  to  a 
suit  of  clothes  for  the  child,  and  we  sent  him  safely  back  to 
his  mother.  You  will  like  to  hear  that,  in  1846,  while 
marching  to  the  Mexican  war,  I  met  this  son  of  Judge 
Martin,  whom  we  had  so  wonderfully  rescued  from  the 
Indians  ;  he  had  grown  up  into  a  fine,  manly  fellow  ;  he 
recognized  me,  having  become  much  attached  to  me  on  our 
march ;  wanted  me  to  retire  from  the  army,  offering  a  large 
farm,  with  all  requisites  for  living  on  it,  near  him.  We 
took    our    way   back   to    Fort  Gibson,   which  was  yet    five 


28  COLONEL  ENOCH   STEKN's   STORY. 

liundrcd  miles  from  us.  Again  we  got  out  of  rations,  and 
suffered  greatly  from  sickness — a  kind  of  bilious  fever.  We 
had  to  carry  our  sick  on  a  rough  contrivance  :  two  horses, 
one  placed  before  the  other;  on  either  side  a  pole,  running 
through  the  stirrup  on  one  horse  to  the  stirrup  on  the  other  , 
thus,  with  a  blanket  slung  over,  forming  a  sort  of  bed.  But 
the  road  was  often  very  rough,  and  even  the  marching 
soldiers  so  sick  and  miserable,  that  the  natural  kindness  of 
their  hearts  forsook  them.  Death  grew  so  familiar  to  them- 
that  pity  and  tenderness  ceased  to  accompany  it.  I,  myself, 
was  so  ill  I  was  often  blinded  by  pain  and  suffering,  but,  in 
horror  of  the  consequences  of  '  giving  in,'  never  reported 
'sick,'  or  failed  in  a  day's  duty.  Colonel  Nathan  Boone, 
son  of  the  well-known  Kentucky  pioneer,  Daniel  Boone,  was 
my  companion  in  this  sickness,  and  endurance  of  it.  To- 
gether we  tended  and  nursed  the  utterly  worn-out  invalids, 
night  and  day. 

In  1835,  on  the  9th  of  August,  our  company  of  dragoons 
formed  to  explore  the  plains  and  make  treaties  with  all  the 
tribes  we  should  meet.  We  were  again  commanded  by 
Colonel  Dodge,  and  making  Fort  Leavenworth  our  starting- 
j)oint,  we  went  up  the  Missouri  River,  thence  along  the  Big 
Platte  River  to  Denver;  the  first  company  of  Uncle  Sam's 
men  who  had  ever  crossed  the  great  plains.  At  that  time 
there  were  no  "white  settlers"  ^vest  of  the  Missouri,  save 
the  trappers,  or,  as  they  were  called,  The  American  Fur 
Company.  They  numbered  from  60  to  lOO.  They  had 
sailed  round   bv  the  Pacific  Ocean  and  Vancouver's  Island, 


COLONEL   ENOCH    STEEN  S   STORY.  29 

to  the  mouth  of  the  Columbia  River.     Jacob  Astor  was  one 
of  them. 

"  Now  I  think,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  I  have  made  a  long 
enough  story  for  one  day,  unless  I  should  add  one  or  two 
remembrances  of  ceremonies  which  we  witnessed  among  the 
Indians  while  crossing  the  plains.  They  are  not  very  cheer- 
ful things  to  tell  about,  but  may  help  to  give  you  an  idea  of 
the  gentle  manners  of  the  noble  red  man. 

"  The    Rees    tribe    were    holding  high   holiday.     Around 
their  camp    were    hung    the    heads  of  buffaloes,   some  just 
slaughtered,    some    only    the    whitened    skulls.     They    had 
raised  a  forty-foot  cotton-tree,  smooth  and  tapering,  midway 
in  their  camp.     With  their  lances  they  pierced  holes  through 
their  amiable  persons,  stringing  themselves  on  rope,  to  the 
end  of  which  was  attached  one  of  those  huge  buffalo  heads, 
of  a  weight  not  less  than  20  lbs.     Then  commenced  a  jocund 
dance  around  the  pole,  in  which  the  buffalo   heads  figured 
with    grace    and    lightness,  dancing    as    the    lordly    Indians 
danced.     This  was  meant  as  a  graceful  act  of  devotion  to 
the   spirit  of  the  chase,  binding  it  in  return  to  grant  them 
success  in  hunting.     When  their  warlike  blood  had  flowed  in 
sufficient  quantity,  the  first  part  of  the  programme  was  con- 
cluded.    Next  came  the  climbing  of  the  pole  by  one  brave 
after  another,  hatchet  in  hand,  till,  the  topmost  reach  of  am- 
bition being  attained,  the  conqueror  chops  off  one  of  his  fin- 
gers, sticks   it  and   the  hatchet   on   the   pole,  and   descends, 
feeling,  no  doubt,  that  the  great  end  of  his  glorious  existence 
is   accomplished.     By  our  camp    fires,  as   we  halted  in   our 


30  COLONEL   ENOCH    STEEN'S   STORY. 

march  over  the  ground  where  now  the  Denver  Railroad 
runs,  we  heard  from  our  interpreter  many  a  legend  of  the 
Indians,  among  them  the  story  of  the  springs.  These 
medicine  waters  are  looked  on  with  awe  as  being  the  abode 
of  a  spirit  who  breathes  through  the  transparent  waters, 
causing  the  commotion  on  their  surface.  The  Arapahoes, 
especially,  attribute  to  this  water-spirit  the  power  of  giving 
to  their  undertakings  success  or  failure.  Passing  by  the 
springs,  on  the  war-trail  of  their  hereditary  enemies,  the 
Yutas,  through  the  '  Valley  of  Salt,'  they  never  fail  to  offer 
presents  to  the  '  Manitou.'  When  we  reached  the  spring 
in  August,  '35,  we  picked  from  the  fountain  many  a  hand- 
ful of  bright  beads,  and  at  Capt.  Buxton's  visit,  in  '47,  he 
found  the  basin  full  of  beads  and  wampum,  knives  and 
pieces  of  red  cloth." 


ffianitou  Spring. 


It 


ESTERDAY  two  Ute  chiefs,  "  Chavcnau  "  and 
"  Little  Colorado,"  rode  up  to  the  Hotel  at  Mani- 
tou  to  send  a  dispatch  to  Washington,  inquiring 
what  the  whites  meant  to  do  about  the  trouble  near 
Wyoming  between  a  set  of  gambling  desperadoes  and  a 
party  of  Utes.  This  was  their  story :  The  two  parties 
were  gambling  for  horses  ;  the  Indians  won,  and  went 
off,  taking  the  horses  with  them  ;  the  enraged  whites 
followed,  killing  ten  of  the  Indians,  and  seizing  the  horses, 
after  which  proceeding  the  Indians  would  have  ample  pre- 
text for  killing  the  first  pale  face  who  came  along.  But 
the  real  truth  of  tiie  affair  was  that  Indians,  enemies  of 
the  Ute  tribe,  had  disguised  themselves  as  Utes.  How- 
ever, these  chiefs  had  come  to  sta}',  as  they  said,  "two 
sleeps  "  and  "  six  eats."  Little  Colorado  was  heavy  and  of 
solemn  demeanor,  but  Chavcnau  was  very  friendly,  and 
smiled  as  cheerfully  as  an  Indian  may. 

That  evening  we  at  the  hotel  had  arranged  some  tableaux 
with  much  care  and,  as  Ave  thought,  great  success.  The 
chiefs  took  places  among  the  audience,  and  watched  gravely. 
One  of  the  finest  of  the  tableaux,  Judith  killing  Holofernes, 
impressed  them   most.     All  the  wild  blood    rose   in    them 


32  INDIANS. 

at  the  figure  of  Judith  with  the  raised  scimitar,  as  she 
stood  over  Holofernes. 

That  night  the  chiefs  slept  in  one  of  the  upper  halls  of 
the  Hotel,  to  the  great  terror  of  those  who  opened  their 
doors  not  knowing  that  the  Indians  were  there.  Their 
dusky  sleeping  faces  upturned  in  the  glinting  moonlight 
were  indeed  enough  to  startle  even  strong  nerves. 

We  were  naturally  very  desirous  of  having  them  sit  to 
us  for  a  drawing,  yet  were  a  little  unwilling  to  ask,  I  will 
tr}-  and  describe  them  as  I  saw  them  squatting  on  heaps 
of  baggage  in  the  hall.  They  both  wore  broad  felt  quaker 
hats,  which  looked  very  comical  over  their  long  straight 
hair  and  copper-brown  skin.  Little  Colorado  wore  a  loose 
orange-red  shirt,  dark  trowsers,  gray  moccasins,  and  a  wide 
marine-blue  blanket  wrapped  round  him — very  handsome, 
but  we  thought  it  must  be  fearfully  hot.  The  array  of 
Chevenau  was  still  more  fantastic.  His  leggings  were  curi- 
ously made  of  red  cloth,  fringed  with  beads,  and  on  each 
side  of  these  a  sort  of  flap  or  sail.  He  was  decorated  with 
a  great  man)-  bead  ornaments.  From  under  his  long  gray- 
ish-black blouse  hung  an  oblong  piece  of  red  stuff,  on  his 
breast  w^as  a  part  of  an  enemy's  skull,  shaped  to  the 
form  of  a  star.  Little  Colorado's  ornaments  were  not 
quite  so  savage  —  only  a  glass  cross  and  gilt  chain, 
with  a  few  blue  and  white  beads.  By  signs  and  a  few 
words  they  understood  our  wish  to  sketch  them,  and  fol- 
lowed us  silently  fiom  the  hotel  to  our  cottage.  We 
handed  them  seats,  giving  to  Little  Colorado  the  rocking- 


INDIANS.  33 

chair,  which  he  took  with  outward  cahn,  though  we 
fancied  with  inward  unccrtaint}'  as  to  how  he  must  tlicrcin 
comport  himself.  To  Chavenau  we  gave  a  picture  magazine 
to  occupy  his  eyes  while  we  drew.  But  civilization  comes 
hard  to  them.  The  chairs  seemed  to  act  like  electric  bat- 
teries, jerking  their  arms  and  legs  into  most  uncomfort- 
able and  unnatural  positions. 

Little  Colorado's  feet  were  placed  wide  apart,  his  hands 
grasped  his  knees  as  if  for  support,  his  big  hat  tipoed  back, 
giving  his  sober  face  the  appearance  of  a  wink  ;  and  in 
spite  of  his  splendid  red  blanket,  my  drawing  was  a  failure 
— so  we  agreed  that  our  only  chance  of  making  a  picture 
of  Indians  would  be  whilst  they  were  quite  at  ease  and 
unconscious  of  notice. 

In  the  afternoon  we  saw  the  chiefs  by  the  Manitou  Spring. 
A  crowd  soon  gathered  round,  and  the  romance  of  the  spot 
vanished  ;  but  for  the  moment  they  completed  my  picture, 
standing  beside  the  waters  which  they  once  worshipped, 
and  to  the  spirit  of  which  they  offered  their  choicest  gifts. 
•  All  that  time  is  with  the  past,  and  only  here  and  there 
is  it  possible  to  feel  that  once  the  red  men  held  undi- 
vided sway.  We  are  too  thankful  that  it  is  so,  listening 
to  our  friend  the  Colonel,  as  he  tells  us  stories  of  Indian 
horrors.  He  is  so  well  known,  and  so  thoroughly  respected, 
we  know  we  can  quite  believe  all  he  tells.  Last  night  we 
were  in  company  with  Governor  Hunt,  another  notable  char- 
acter in  the  colony.     All  our  interest  and  enthusiasm  were 

aroused  as  he  described  the  life  of  his  family  since,  sixteen 
3 


34  INDIANS. 

years  ago,  they  toiled  across  the  plains  in  ox-wagons,  and 
settled  in  the  wilderness  of  Denver,  All  the  discourage- 
ments and  hard  places  of  that  life  had  but  served  to  give 
fresh  impulse  to  ambition  and  exertion,  and  I  mentally 
added  Gov.  Hunt  to  my  list  of  the  nobles  whom  we  have 
met  out  here,  who  have  kept  the  enthusiasm  of  youth  bright 
and  warm.  With  manly  courage  and  childlike  hearts  they 
keep  on  their  course  ;  modest  and  temperate,  they  are 
also  shrewd  and  large-hearted.  God  bless  them  for  the 
example  which  they  give  to  the  many  young  men  here, 
setting  out  in  life,  one  of  our  boys  among  them  !  If  they 
but  follow  those  footsteps,  bravely  and  honestly,  they  will 
fill  every  desire  of  those  who  love  them  and  watch  their 
progress  with  anxious  hearts. 


^he  6lirTib,  ^hP'yer\r|e  Garioq. 


4^ 


egeipt^e     ^^aiiffn 


ILL  ROGERS  is  this  minute  whittling  some 
sticks,  to  make  sure  of  a  fire.  We  had  but  two 
matches,  and  he  made  a  failure  of  the  first.  Good, 
manly  fellow  he  is,  indeed.  I  am  the  sole  companion  of 
him  and  his  little  wife,  and  they  are  getting  ready  the 
lunch,  while  I  am  trying  to  get  my  nerves  steady  after 
the  weary  ride  from  Manitou  in  that  great  wagon — the 
one  that  Norah's  pen  has  immortalized — the  wagon  which 
carried  these  two  all  the  way  from  BiUler,  in  Missouri, 
nearly  800  miles  across  the  plains. 

Last  night  we  were  trembling  in  our  cottage,  shut  up 
there  from  the  great  storm.  Such  bellowings  of  thunder  I 
never  heard,  and  when  we  ventured  to  raise  the  curtains  and 
look  out,  it  was  enough  to  make  one  think  that  the  very  last 
night  had  come,  that  the  world  was  surely  on  fire,  and  that 
the  flames  would  be  on  us  in  a  moment.  I  little  thought  I 
should  be  here  to-day.  But  oh !  what  a  new-born,  clean- 
washed  earth!  What  a  wondrous  sky!  What  glory  and 
purity,  what  new  life  over  all,  and  within  myself!  Only  once 
before  have  I  seen  such  color;  it  was  early  one  morning,  go- 
ing into  Naples,  on  one  of  the  broad-decked  Mediterranean 
boats,  when  we  sat  and  looked  with  heart  and  eyes  on  the 


^6  CHEYENNE   CANON. 

lovely  islands  in  the  bay,  and  wondered  at  the  tints  to 
express  which  we  seek  in  vain  for  words.  I  would  like  to 
shut  my  eyes  in  southern  Italy,  then  open  them  here,  and  so 
find  out,  by  sudden  contrast,  what  it  is  that  makes  the  differ- 
ence. 

The  fire  is  made,  the  kettle  boils,  the  teapot  (which  has  a 
story  of  its  own,  to  be  told  by  Nellie  some  day)  is  charged 
with  tea.  My  dear  little  Abigail  opens  the  big  lunch-basket, 
so  exactly  suited  to  the  wagon,  and  which  was  filled  by  the 
generous  hands  of  our  Manitou  hostess,  and  we  sit  down  to  a 
delightful  meal.  The  horses  are  grazing  by  the  camp,  and 
we  leave  bags  and  shawls  unhesitatingly  in  the  wagon,  and 
set  out  for  the  falls.  I  began  to  count  the  bridges  over  that 
Cheyenne  creek,  made  of  stepping-stones  and  fallen  logs,  but 
gave  it  up  when  I  reached  the  twentieth  ;  so  we  stood  before 
the  beautiful  falls  of  Cheyenne  Caiion,  and  tried  to  realize  all 
their  beauty  and  the  foolishness  of  the  attempt  to  sketch 
them  with  a  woman's  hand  and  a  steel  pen. 

All  our  twenty  odd  bridges  safely  passed  again,  we 
reached  the  camp,  where  we  dined,  and  the  small  house- 
(camp)  wife  packed  up  dishes  and  tidied  things,  while  Will 
went  away  a  little  distance  to  harness  the  horses.  Looking 
at  our  watches,  we  find  it  has  taken  three-quarters  of  an  hour 
to  walk  from  the  falls.  This  first  rest  which  we  take  to-day, 
is  most  grateful  to  our  tired  limbs.  We  hear  the  birds  sing, 
and  one  fellow,  large  and  bold,  breaks  in  with  a  sort  of 
scream.  He  is  blue  on  the  breast,  with  brown  wings  and  a 
crest  of  black.     His  loud  scolding  is  because  we  are  too  near 


CHEYENNE   CANON.  37 

his  nest.  I  can  make  little  effort  to  describe  what  I  see 
around  in  this  most  lordly,  wild  canon,  but  all  the  day  has 
been  full  of  a  grand  sentiment,  the  gift  of  this  glorious 
Nature.  Will  comes  back.  He  has  harnessed  Betsy  and 
Loo,  and  announces  that  Betsy  is  eager  to  get  back  to  the 
colt.  These  creatures  speak  English  as  near  as  hor^:es  ever 
did.  Will  tells  how  they  comfort  and  scold,  and  stand  up 
for  each  other.  Getting  into  the  wagon  and  looking  far 
away  over  the  prairie,  it  is  just  like  going  to  sea  again — 
indeed  this  kind  of  vehicle  is  called  a  prairie  schooner.  We 
are  on  a  broad  plateau,  with  no  visible  descent,  and  away  off 
lies  the  prairie,  under  heavy,  wavey  shadows,  and  there,  in  a 
broad  gleam  of  sunshine,  stand  the  small  houses  of  "  Colo- 
rado Springs  "  or  "  Newtown,"  very  much  like  a  group  of 
"Mother  Gary's  chickens."  As  far  as  motion  goes,  the 
wagon  is  not  unlike  a  ship,  especially,  when  we  get  to  a  part 
of  the  road  that  used  to  be  a  prairie-dog  village. 

Each  moment  of  our  descent  the  beauty  grows  ;  now  the 
long,  graceful  lines  of  the  mountains  on  the  west  run  down 
to  meet  the  gentle  undulation  of  the  swelling  prairie  on  the 
east,  and  the  sun  runs  in  and  out  in  eager  hunt  for  beauty- 
spots. 

Will  Rogers  begins  to  sing  some  of  the  songs  he  learned 
in  camp,  for  he  was  a  soldier  for  four  years,  and  when  he 
leaves  off  singing  the  little  wife  begins  again  her  story  of 
their  journey  across  the  plains.  We  are  seated  on  chairs  in 
the  centre  of  the  "  prairie  schooner,"  and  now  and  then  run 
great    risk    of  being    upset  ;    but    I    am    assured    that    it    is 


38  CHEYENNE  CANON. 

because  the  wagon  is  not  well  laden ;  so  on  we  creep,  with 
the  fresh  air  blowing  away  the  fatigue  of  our  morning  tramp. 
The  small  settlements,  three  of  which  we  have  passed  since 
leaving  the  caijon,send  out  their  little,  barking  dogs,  and  the 
men  are  coming  home  to  supper  at  the  camps,  which  dot  the 
roadside  here  and  there  close  to  Colorado  Springs,  and  there 
I  leave  my  kind  companions  and  the  "schooner"  for  the 
hotel  and  two  or  three  days'  sketching  in  the  little,  new 
town. 


HE  Fountain  Colony!  I  wish  I  could  do  justice 
to  the  life  of  this  street  scene.  Great  ox-teams 
cross  the  lines  of  the  fences,  and  whole  trains  of 
emigrant  wagons  surround  the  place  of  the  new  church 
about  to  be  built,  and  turn  the  pretty  street  into  a  holiday 
scene.  Happy  children  and  men  and  women,  just  off  their 
long  journeys,  crowd  the  place,  so  glad  to  get  into  their 
camping-grounds  in  the  "  Garden  of  the  Gods,"  or  up  by 
the  great  springs  of  Manitou.  I  have  borrowed  a  chair, 
and  sit  between  the  two  largest  trees  of  the  village — single, 
leafless  trunks,  set  out  a  few  months  ago.  The  great  wild- 
flowers  and  weeds  spring  from  the  side  of  the  irrigating 
ditch  through  which  the  water  runs  at  my  feet  as  clear  as  a 
real  brook.  Behind  me  stone-cutters  are  busily  at  work  on 
the  walls  of  the  Episcopal  Church,  whose  corner-stone  was  laid 
by  Bishop  Randal  a  week  ago.  Before  me  is  the  pretty 
Presbyterian  Church,  and  to  the  right,  just  back  of  Captain 
de  Courcey's  rustic  cottage,  is  the  unfinished  Baptist  Church. 
Yesterday,  as  we  came  from  Cheyenne  Canon,  we  passed  a 
camp  which  seemed  to  me  just  what  I  wanted  for  my  sketch 
of  the  new  church  and  the  bright  little  cottages  of  the  new 


40  COLORADO    SPRINGS. 

town,  so  again  I  breakfast  at  half  past  six  and  set  off  to  get 
it.  It  is  a  long  walk,  and  I  have  a  high  wind  to  fight 
with,  but  I  persevere,  remembering  the  home-like  scene 
which  attracted  me  last  evening:  the  two  children  play- 
ing at  an  old  man's  knee,  the  grandmother  getting  sup- 
per at  a  camp  fire,  the  tent  with  door  half  open,  the 
I'lorses  contentedly  grazing,  and  the  empty  "  schooner " 
near  by.  But  what  a  disappointment  meets  me  this 
morning,  and  what  a  sad  story !  As  I  approach  this 
little  settlement,  so  peaceful  and  comfortable-looking 
last  niglit,  the  children  are  seated  on  a  chest,  one  of  them 
crying  because  father  will  not  let  her  carry  home  a  pet 
prairie-dog,  which  she  has  on  her  knee.  The  old  people  are 
packing  up  bag  and  basket.  A  strong  young  fellow  lifting 
the  poor  sick  wife  and  mother  into  the  wagon,  which  must 
carry  them  back  to  their  home  in  Kansas.  As  the  sad  little 
group  moves  off,  I  catch  a  glimpse  of  a  white  face  pillowed 
inside  ;  the  children  sit  quietly  by  the  father,  who  is  driving, 
while  the  stout  old  couple  walk  slowly  beside.  A  sad  start 
for  home.  The  tent  remains  all  tightl}'  folded  :  they  have 
left  it  behind  that  they  might  have  more  room  for  the  inva- 
lid in  the  wagon.  She  came  to  Colorado  too  late;  the 
blessed  air  cannot  heal  lungs  so  far  diseased  as  hers,  and,  as 
I  turn  back  sorrowTully  to  my  hotel,  I  wonder  if  she  will 
reach  her  home,  or  if  the}-  will  have  to  stop  by  the  way  to 
seek  a  resting-place  for  her. 

It   is    everywhere   announced   that    rain    is    coming.     The 
great  mountain  is  in  a   mist.     The  train  has  just  come  in, 


LooKiq^  out,  Gl^eyeqrie  (feafjoq. 


COLORADO   SPRINGS.  4 1 

and  the  omnibus  dashes  up  with  the  i)asscngers,  who  stop  to 
dine  before  they  go  on  to  Pueblo  or  take  the  stage  for  Mani- 
tou.  The  hindlord  is  going  with  a  large  party  up  Pike's 
Peak,  to  see  the  sun  rise.  In  spite  of  the  threatening  rain,  it  is 
a  jolly  party  which  gathers  in  front  of  the  hotel.  Among 
them  I  notice  one  old  lady  quite  as  gay  as  the  young  ones, 
and  who  threatens  to  outdo  them  all.  She  must  be  sixty- 
five,  and  I  am  astonished  at  her  courage.  There  are  but  five 
gentlemen  in  the  party,  and  at  least  ten  ladies.  Later  in  the 
evening  we  sit  and  watch,  from  the  piazza,  the  camp  fires 
lighted  half-wa}'  up  the  Peak.  Many  parties  go  there  in  the 
afternoon,  rest  in  camp  till  three  in  the  morning,  and  then 
climb  to  the  top  in  time  to  see  the  sun  rise.  Since  this  part}' 
left  there  has  been  much  rain,  and  we  can  imagine  them  get- 
ting dried  by  the  huge  fires  blazing  on  the  mountain  side. 
There  are  many  delightful  people  to  talk  to  and  to  admire  with 
me  the  great  rainbow  that  throws  its  unbroken  arch  over  the 
vast  mountain  range,  and  fills  the  very  sky  with  its  colors.  T 
am  told  that  I  have  not  yet  seen  the  best  part  of  the  caiion, 
and  a  gentleman  offers  to  be  my  guide  there  to-morrow. 

Roufrhincf  it  in  the  "  schooner "  was  well  enough,  but 
quite  another  thing  is  this  to  start,  at  half  past  six  o'clock, 
after  a  good  breakfast,  in  the  lightest  of  carriages,  with  a  spir- 
ited horse.  With  a  friend  of  taste  and  culture  to  talk  to,  a 
knowledge  of  the  route  and  of  what  we  are  to  see,  the  toilsome 
tramp  of  yesterday  became  a  pleasure  and  delight  in  this 
fresh  morning  air.  A  climb  which  brought  out  the  great 
strength  and  patient  kindness  of  my  guide,  and  on  my  part  a 


43  COLORADO    SPRIXCIS. 

little  determination  to  "  go  on,"  brin^  us  to  the  highest 
attainable  point  of  the  canon,  and  from  between  the  rocks 
we  gaze  out  on  the  plains.  There  was,  really,  not  a  word  to 
be  said,  and,  with  a  long-drawn  breath,  I  took  refuge  in  utter 
silence. 

We  had  been  talking  a  great  deal  of  the  wonders  of  the 
mountain  forms  and  their  strange  likeness  to  human  beings, 
how  they  seemed  to  be  reproduced  even  in  the  clouds  of 
these  peculiar  skies  ;  but  here  our  speech  fell  mute  in 
wonder  and  awe. 

After  an  hour  I  found  courage  to  attempt,  with  my  pen, 
even  a  feeble  remembrance  of  the  scene,  and  my  guide  took 
his  pencil.  Looking  up  at  his  call,  I  saw  a  mighty  eagle  dis- 
porting himself  in  the  deep,  intense  blue.  Ah,  how  express- 
ive his  sweeping,  soaring  motions  of  delight,  and  freedom, 
and  power! 


TAKE  my  seat  at  the  great  hill's  edge,  with  my 
feet  on  wild  gooseberry  bushes,  making  an  earnest 
and  most  uncomfortable  effort  to  get  a  view  of  the 
old  hotel  of  ManitOLi.  It  was  here  that  our  good  friends  of 
"The  Home"  made  their  first  dwelling,  pending  the  build- 
ing of  their  beautiful  house.  How  full  of  interest  are  the 
accounts  of  their  coming  here  late  in  the  evening  of  the 
last  day  of  December,  '71,  when  they  reached  this  "hotel,"' 
a  mere  shelter  of  rough  piiie  boards,  where  all  the  airs 
and  the  lights  of  heaven  blew  and  shone  through  and 
through  the  rooms  ;  but  trouble  and  care  could  not  abide 
in  that  heavenly  atmosphere,  and  hard  work  became  play  ; 
rudest  civilization  seemed  golden  Arcadian  in  the  trans- 
lucent air  of  Colorado,  and  the  fare  might  have  pleased 
the  heathen  deities  themselves,  so  new  and  piquant 
seemed  every  meal.  Black-tail  deer  (most  dainty  of  all  veni- 
son), buffalo  and  antelope,  grouse  and  quail,  trout  from  the 
brooks,  and  the  strange  new  animal,  the  mountain  sheep. 
"  Sam,"  the  trusty  Scotch  servant,  was  cook.  He  made 
endless  fun  for  the  children,  with  his  hat  tilted  back  on  the 
very  last  hairs,  his  long,  striding  gait,  and  his  white,  even 
teeth  perpetually  gleaming  in  his  good-natured,  smiling  face. 


44  THE   OLD    HOTEL. 

The  mountains  rose  twice  as  grand  and  mighty  in  the  even- 
ing sk)',  and  they  seemed  to  watch  and  guard  that  first  sleep 
of  the  brave,  adventurous  family.  The  first  morning  was, 
as  they  said,  like  waking  in  heaven,  and  altogether  beyond 
description,  for  here  the  seasons  had  refused  to  go,  and  liad 
each  waited  for  its  successor  to  come  and  make  good  cheer; 
so  winter  had  kept  a  skating-pond  and  a  good  snow-ball 
bank  for  the  boys,  while  Spring  came  just  beside  to  set  the 
brooks  babbling  and  the  birds  singing,  and  Autumn  had 
insisted  on  "pre-empting"  one  sunny  nook,  where  the  late 
flowers  bloomed  and  the  feathery  grasses  waved,  for  the 
mother  to  deck  rough  wooden  walls  and  tables.  What  a 
strange,  unreal  effect  must  that  have  been  when,  one  morn- 
ing, as  the  children  were  playing,  their  hair  and  their  blue 
woolen  dresses  were  suddenly  sprinkled  w  ith  shining  frost- 
powder,  and  a  diaphanous  snow-cloud  descended  and  envel- 
oped every  form,  till  it  was  as  if  all  walked  in  a  "  vision  of 
mist."  Nights  intensely  cold,  when  every  possible  woven 
fabric  was  pressed  into  service  for  covering,  followed  by  days 
of  such  heat  that  to  bathe  in  the  clear,  bubbling  spring,  was 
a  luxury,  and  summer  clothes  and  sun-bonnets  a  necessity. 
Near  the  great  mineral  spring,  fresh  and  virgin  as  Nature's 
hand  had  left  it,  where  it  seemed  Undine  must  emerge  if  one 
lifted  a  stone,  was  the  only  habitation  besides  our  own.  It 
was  the  dwelling  of  a  hermit  invalid,  who  had  been  carried 
here,  and  who,  in  this  healing  air  and  with  the  use  of  the 
spring,  became,  after  a  while,  well  and  strong.  The  coming 
of  the    M.  family  must  have  been  a   blessing   to  him  ;  the 


THE   OLD   HOTEL.  45 

young  girls  made  broad  for  him  and  brought  him  many  com- 
forts. 

Many  visits  were  made  by  the  Indians,  who  came  eager  to 
"  swop  "  everything  and  anything,  from  a  bead  belt  to  a 
baby,  and  at  last  had  to  be  forbidden  a  too  near  approach, 
in  the  fear  that  the  bright  hair  and  dark  eyes  of  little  Daisy 
might  prove  too  tempting  to  them.  The  M.  family  are  set- 
tled in  their  beautiful,  luxurious  home  now,  but  they  all  agree 
that  no  sweeter  remembrance  comes  to  them  than  that  of  the 
weeks  spent  in  their  rough  shelter,  waited  on  and  cared  for 
by  faithful  servants,  when  each  evening  home-coming  of 
father  and  brothers  made  a  festival,  and  their  hearts  were  in 
truest,  happiest  harmony,  as  they  gathered  round  the  table 
spread  with  choicest  morsels  from  the  game-bag  of  Old  Criss, 
the  hunter  of  Bereun's  Park. 


en 


THE  HOME. 


UCH  an  excitement  in  the  house,  as  well  as  through 
the  cafions  and  the  great  rocks,  and  the  empt}- 
watercourse  that  is  welcoming  the  tempest  beating 
down  and  actually  storming  us,  though  we  are  safely  shel- 
tered in  the  great  house.  Over  from  the  school-house  dash 
the  boys,  shouting  with  delight,  and  the  dear  foreign  lady, 
their  governess,  looks  sorrowfully  out,  and  says:  "Ah! 
the  whole  place  is  undermined  ;  our  poor  school-house  is 
washing  away."  All  down  the  hillsides  run  wild  torrents, 
strong  enough  to  cut  instantly  their  own  channels  ;  they 
meet  at  points,  and  rush  wildly  together,  till  they  reach 
the  thirsty  creek,  that  rejoices  in  them  like  a  giant  refreshed. 
What  half-human  voices  come  from  the  rocks  around! 
Only  by  those  echoes  can  w^e  tell  where  thev'  stand,  for 
the  sheeted  waters  beat  over  and  hide  them.  The  people 
in  the  grounds  fly  and  make  for  the  barn,  chased  by  this 
tempest,  so  sudden,  wild,  and  fearful.  Yesterday  this  same 
Ftorm  overtook   and    almost  drowned    people  coming   into 


tol^e  Hon[\e-6leii  ^yn'e. 


(;len   eyrie.  47 

the  town  five  miles  away.  This  inoniing,  how  beautiful 
was  everything  as  I  sat  at  the  lodge  gate !  Who  could 
have  dreamt  of  such  swift  destruction  !  But  now  we  begin 
to  sec  the  rocks  again — before  I  can  finish  writing  of  it, 
the  sun  is  out  again,  and  the  wonderful  clouds  are  made 
a  thousand — thousand  times  more  glorious  ;  and  yet,  with 
a  soft  veil  over  all.  I  remember  once  in  crossing  the 
ocean  a  huge  iceberg  came  close  to  the  ship.  It  was  in 
July,  and  in  the  sunset  we  sat  on  deck  and  wondered  at 
the  magic  scene — never  have  I  beheld  such  heavenly  tints 
till  now,  among  these  rocks  and  clouds.  From  the  Major 
Domo  to  the  vast  pile  of  rocks  where  the  echoes  live, 
stretches  a  great  rainbow,  which  is  three  times  repeated  ; 
behind  it  the  gray  escarpment  and  the  outer  wall  of  Glen 
Eyrie  are  almost  transparent,  and  of  a  greenish  tint,  while 
the  great  red  rocks  stand  sentinel  in  front,  proud  in  their 
eternal  strength,  and  rear  their  wonderful  shapes,  challeng- 
ing our  wonder,  awe,  and  admiration. 

Eyes  better  used  than  mine,  will  you  come  and  help  me 
to  see  what  you  have  found  in  the  awful  architecture  of 
these  rocks?  Here,  in  the  escarpment,  is  the  titanic  buffalo, 
who  looks  down,  solemnly  watchful.  Above  him,  a  ruined 
castle  ;  farther  on,  a  pile  of  modern  construction,  with  a 
mighty  chimney  in  the  centre,  the  gable  end  perfectly  out- 
lined ;  then,  from  the  group  of  echo  rocks,  stands  out  a 
face,  lined  and  worn  to  the  semblance  of  an  agony  of  grief, 
turned  to  heaven  in  awful  supplication.  It  seems  as  if  it 
must    be   the  face   of  that   Echo,  which,  through   all   these 


48  GLEX    EVRIE. 

ages,  has  answered  only  the  cry  of  bird  ;ind  beast,  the  voice 
of  Indians,  and  the  thunderings  of  the  tempest. 

I  am  gkid  to  be  able  to  insert  here  a  page  from  this  rare 
home-life  of  Glen  Eyrie  ;  it  will  better  finish  the  picture 
than  any  of  my  own  comments. 


MRS.  M 'S  LETTER. 

I  THINK  it  is  such  a  boon  to  children  when  the}'  are 
perm.itted  to  grow  up  in  the  midst  of  grand  scenery.  It 
is  a  constant  inspiration  and  uplifting.  Looking  at  these 
mountains  gives  one  a  desire  to  climb,  mentally.  Here 
there  is  no  false  standard  of  life,  no  unworthy  desires  or 
excitements  to  come  between  our  children  and  nature's 
great  heart.  Many  a  whisper  do  they  hear  and  many  a 
lesson  do  they  learn  which  needs  no  interpreter.  The  spirit 
and  influences  of  these  grand  scenes  enter  into  the  pure 
young  souls,  and  leave  an  impress  which  no  time  or  trouble 
can  efface.  It  seems  almost  a  crime  to  rear  a  child  in  the 
city,  to  surround  and  hamper  him  with  enervating  habits 
and  artificial  dress.  k'or  a  perfect  growth  of  soul,  as  of 
body,  a  long,  free,  opoi  air  childhood  is  indispensable. 

The  sun  is  just  coming  up  from  behind  the  red  rocks,  to 
cast  his  glory  over  the  beautiful  picture  spread  before  me. 
All  Nature  is  waking.  The  birds  arc  beginning  their  matins, 
and  the  brooks,  with  their  never-ceasing  music,  make  chorus 


GLEN    EVRIE.  49 

to  all  other  sweet  sounds.  All  the  household  are  sound 
asleep ;  but  this  strange,  new  life  fills  me  with  a  spirit  of 
unrest,  so  I  am  up  and  on  our  piazza,  to  greet  the  lovely 
opening  of  day.  I  would  fain  call  you  back,  dear  friend,  to 
share  this  clear,  pure  air  with  me,  to  rejoice  with  me  in  this 
new  w'aking  of  birds  and  flowers,  and  the  happy,  healthy 
group  of  children,  who  rouse  to  answer  the  bright  smile  sent 
in  by  the  sun  to  their  nests.  This  great,  glad  sun  has  already 
tipped  the  rocks  and  hills  down  by  "  Melrose  Abbey,"  and 
sent  a  shaft  of  light  round  the  corner  of  Echo  rocks,  and  ere 
I  can  finish  this  sentence,  will  have  crowned  the  Major  Domo 
himself,*  What  a  shame  that  we  are  not  oftener  witnesses  of 
the  royal  progress  !  how  it  strengthens  the  body  and  refreshes 
the  mind  to  meet  the  long,  hot  hours  of  day,  to  respond  to 
the  calls  on  sympathy,  and  patience,  and  love,  that  come 
from  the  sturdy  company  of  small  people  within  the  house. 
There !  The  opening  note  comes  from  Daisy.  She  has 
waked  Marguerite,  and  there  is  a  busy  chattering  going  on 
in  the  dressing-room.  The  beautiful  shoes  sent  by  dear 
Papa  are  to  be  put  on.  Mademoiselle  Julie  (a  superb  doll 
brought  by  Mr.  P.)  is  to  have  her  breakfast  and  go  out. 
Plans  are  being  made  for  the  day — the  walks  to  be  taken, 
the  flowers  to  be  picked,  all  in  company  with  Clark,  and 
Nat,  and  Chase.  Yesterday,  just  after  I  had  left  the  din- 
ner-table, poor  Curly  Head  was  attacked  by  giant  Hot 
Temper,  and,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  completely  conquered.     All 

*  In  whose  great  stone  face  the  children  have  found  a  likeness  to  Abraham 
Lincoln. 


50  CI.KN    KVRIE. 

the  tribe  fled  to  my  room  for  safety,  the  little  lion  ru.shin<^ 
after,  lost  to  all  reason,  wild  with  raijc.  I  caught  him  in  my 
arms,  told  him  how  sorry  I  was  that  the  giant  had  used  him 
so  badly,  and  to  see  him  waste  the  strength  which  he 
needed  to  make  him  grow  into  a  man  ;  and  when  he  was  a 
little  calmer,  I  sent  him  out  to  the  piazza  to  cool  off 
and  think  it  ov^er.  Daisy,  who  had  looked  on  gravely  at  the 
whole  scene,  followed  the  culprit,  and  with  a  face  full  of 
sympathy,  sat  down  beside  him,  patting  and  kissing  him, 
and  called  out  to  me,  "  Oh,  come  and  see  now  ;  Clark  is  so 
pretty  dis  minnit." 

And  pretty  enough  the)^  both  looked,  sitting  in  the  sun- 
shine. Curly  head,  w^ith  his  rage  all  gone,  his  eyelashes  still 
wet  with  tears,  his  face  full  of  sadness,  bent  down  to  receive 
the  loving  caresses  of  the  little  comforter  ;  conquered  again, 
but  this  time  by  the  love  of  the  little  flower-like  sister. 
Well  for  him  that  love  surrounds  him  to  help  him  in  the 
hard  fight  with  giant  Hot  Temper.  Since  I  have  begun  to 
write  he  is  up  and  dressed,  and  has  gone  down  stairs  singing, 
hand  in  hand  with  little  Daisy — another  version  of  the  lion 
and  the  lamb.  He  is  seven  years  old  to-day,  our  Curly 
Head.  He  told  me  yesterday  he  would  rather  I  should 
whip  him  when  he  is  bad  than  scold  him,  because  it  did  not 
take  so  long  1  "  *  *  *  * 

The  Clematis  is  dripping  all  fresh  from  last  night's  rain. 
Yesterday  in  the  hotel  at  Manitou  the  hostess  had  the  hand- 
some dining-room  wreathed  with  it  ;  we   thought  it   lovely 


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GLEN   EYRIE.  5  I 

then,  and  praised  her  taste  ;  but  here,  oh  liere  !  It  makes 
wreaths  at  its  own  wild  will,  around  and  over  and  into  the 
shrubs  where  I  sit  by  the  gate  of  Glen  Eyrie,  whence  I  see 
the  very  prettiest  picture  possible  under  the  Eagle's  Rock, 
where  the  nest  hangs  straight  over.  This  is  the  Lodge  of 
rustic  work,  with  its  diamond-paned  windows,  where  the  sun- 
light is  dancing  ;  the  boys  are  frisking  around  it,  while  Lottie, 
invested  v/ith  sovereign  power,  is  preparing  lunch.  To-day  is 
high  holiday,  we  are  to  have  absolutely  our  own  way,  and  are 
not  to  be  called  to  account  for  any  misdemeanor  whatever. 

At  last  these  children  understand  that  I  am  just  as  young 
at  heart  as  they,  while  I  am  at  my  out-of-door  work,  and  I 
share  their  confidences  and  enter  into  their  plans  beautifully. 

There  is  plenty  of  fire-wood,  and  in  the  Lodge  is  an  iron 
stove,  and  there  is  Lottie,  if  my  eyes  see  aright,  making  pies 
and  heating  the  oven  !  Flour,  baking-powder,  butter  and 
salt  are  mixed,  and  biscuits  of  the  lovely  primrose-tinted 
Colorado  flour,  are  "rising"  as  light  as  our  spirits.  The 
water  is  boiled  and  tea  is  made.  The  boys  give  the  room  an 
energetic  sweeping.  Chase  has  taken  off  shoes  and  stock- 
ings, and  is  darting  around  promiscuously.  Johnny  Blair 
brings  the  wood  and  water.  All  help  to  set  the  table  with 
tin  cups  and  plates,  pewter  spoons  and  forks.  Lunch  is 
almost  ready.  Tea  and  biscuits,  cold  meat  and  fowls,  and 
fruit,  duly  spread  out,  we  "  fall  to "  with  real  woodland 
appetites.  Then  the  talk  gets  lively.  Chase  warns  me  of 
the  rattle-snakes — he  has  killed  them  close  to  this  spot. 
"When  you  hear  a  noise  like  a  grasshopper,"  he  says,  "look 


3-' 


GLEN   EYRIE. 


out ;  "  and  when  presently  he  goes  to  the  rushing  brook  for 
water,  he  brings  back,  as  convincing  argument,  the  skin  of  a 
huge  rattle-snake  on  a  stick. 

Last  evening,  when  thunder  and  lightning  waged  war 
against  my  work,  I  grew  heavy-hearted  and  despairing  over 
it,  and  I  thought,  "  How  foolish  to  attempt  to  draw  such 
scenery!"  But  I  begin  to  find  that  here  the  spirit  of  the 
scenery  enters  within  your  innermost,  and  that  it  was  the 
weather  only  which  had  darkened  my  spirit  and  weakened 
my  hope.  This  morning  is,  indeed,  a  blessed  revelation  ; 
never  was  such  air  to  breathe,  such  freshness  of  color,  such 
depth  and  purity  of  light,  and  as  for  odors  !  — 

Clark  makes  dashes  here  and  there  for  handful  of  wald 
flowers;  he  says,  "When  you  get  a  most  beautiful  smell, 
that's  a  primrose!"  and  he  holds  a  bunch  to  my  nose. 
"  Tip  always  smells  them  out."  Now  Tip,  who  is  an  ill- 
mannered  pup,  not  out  of  his  A  B  Cs,  feels  the  fine  free  state 
of  things,  and  jumps,  all  dripping  from  a  souse  in  the  creek, 
right  on  my  dress,  knocks  down  chair  and  umbrella,  and 
otherwise  misconducts  himself.  Hugh,  the  pleasant  Scotch 
gardener,  stops,  as  he  opens  the  gate,  to  say  :  "  Eh,  mem  ! 
but  this  is  a  mairnin'  gude  for  mon  an'  beastie  as  weel's 
the  thirsty  groun.'  " 

Another  time  I  should  have  groaned  over  my  stupidity  in 
having  forgotten  just  the  piece  of  paper  which  I  needed,  but 
grumbling  is  not  to  be  thought  of  with  this  hour  of  full 
pleasure  to  live  in,  and  already  Clark  is  halfway  back  to  get 
the  missing  paper  for  me,  with  Tip  in  hot  pursuit. 


GLEN   EYRIE.  53 

These  children  make  a  rare  story-book  for  me  ;  their  home 
is  an  "  Arabian  Nights,"  Robinson  Crusoe,  and  Sandford 
and  Merton,  all  in  one,  and  mingled  by  an  artist  hand.  A 
shrill  whistle,  and  —  "  Look  at  here  !  Here  we  are !  "  and 
between  the  bushes  stands  Clark,  holding  in  triumph  a 
Larkspur  twice  his  own  height,  his  face  all  aglow  with 
pleasure,  and  the  sunshine  sending  back  into  his  black  eyes 
the  glory  of  that  blue  flower.  I  think  of  the  fountain  of  life 
that  the  blue  bird  in  the  Arabian  tale  sung  of,  and  even  Tip 
behaves  as  if  he  had  had  a  draught  from  it,  and  had  quite 
forgotten  that  he  had  ever  been  sent  from  the  room  in  dis- 
grace. Behind  my  boy  come  two  of  the  ladies,  and  we  hear 
a  little  scream,  and  "  It's  a  snake  !  I  know  it  is ! ''  but 
Clark  laughs  them  to  scorn,  and  shouts,  "  It's  only  a  big 
toad ! " 

He  comes  to  my  side  while  I  draw,  and  tells  me  they  came 
here  from  the  old  hotel  before  the  great  house  was  finished, 
and  sa}'s  how  much  afraid  they  all  were,  it  was  so  wild  and 
lonely.  He  was  only  six  years  old,  and  was  sure  it  must  be 
just  the  place  for  gypsies.  "  Oh,  I'd  not  come  here,  then,  for 
anything ;  I  was  sure  the  lions  must  be  here,  and  the  ani- 
mals, so  I  kept  close  to  the  house.  We  saw  wolves  and 
foxes,  and  we  heard  barking  up  the  mountains,  oh,  awfully! 
it  was  wolves  or  bears.  We  were  up  the  school-house  canon 
— oh,  mercy !  we  tvcrc  so  frightened !  We  came  rushing 
down  the  canon,  oh,  didn't  we!  Lottie,  Chase  and  I,  and  told 
Brunette  the  wolf  was  coming  !  " 
"  And  are  you  ever  afraid  now?" 


54  GLEN   EYRIE. 

"  No-o-o  ;  we're  not  afraid  now — wc  were  city  boys  then. 
We  have  such  fun  now !  We  killed  a  skunk  yesterday,  and 
then  for  the  stink !  Over  there's  the  snakes'  burying- 
ground — such  a  lot  of  graves,  and  didn't  we  put  them  in 
deep!  We  thought  it  was  such  a  wonderful  thing  to  see  the 
stones,  we  thought  a  little  bit  of  stone  was  so  beautiful ;  and 
oh,  the  big  rocks!  Now  we  climb,  just  for  fun,  away  up  to 
the  top  of  the  rock  over  the  eagle's  nest."  And  then  I  hear 
the  story  of  how  Margey  was  out  with  the  baby  and  Daisy, 
and  how  an  eagle  came  swooping  down,  and  was  going  to 
carry  off  little  Daisy.  Margey  made  a  great  shake  at  him 
with  the  baby  in  her  arms,  so  he  had  to  fly  away.  How 
frightened  they  all  were  when  Margey  came  home  and  said 
she'd  never  go  there  again  with  the  babies  ;  and  the  eagle 
did  take  a  pet  guinea-hen  away  ;  and  the  young  bear  they 
were  taming  tore  at  Nat's  leg  one  day,  and  had  to  be  sent 
away. 

Here  came  Nat  himself,  to  bring  me  in  to  dinner. 


"Ginrj  T5ur]ker's  Pulpit, 


itn 


1  tt  I II  i  t  ♦ 


EFORE  we  reach  "  Rainbow  Glen,"  the  opening  of 
"  Ute  Pass,"  there  looms  before  us  a  mass  of  rock, 
crowning  the  mountain.  It  is  named  Tim  Bunker's 
Pulpit,  in  honor  of  a  literary  gentleman  (Rev.  Mr.  Clift),  who 
writes  under  this  noin  de  phimc.  Just  below  this  mountain 
is  the  mineral  spring  called  "The  Captain."  On  the  left  of 
the  road  is  a  log  hut,  and  above  its  open  door  the  word 
"Bakery,"  in  staring  red  letters.  An  American  flag  floats 
valiantly  from  a  shingle  on  the  roof,  and,  within  the  rough 
domicile,  various  pies,  sandwiches,  and  antelope  pasties, 
invite  the  wayfarer  to  "refreshment."  The  lord  of  the  log 
hut  is  a  wholesome-looking  and  amiable  Englishman ; 
his  wife,  the  compounder  of  all  the  eatables,  is  a  Cock- 
neyess,  unmodified  and  convinced  that  all  Nature's  glories, 
all  splendors  of  forest  and  stream  and  mountain,  are 
as  naught  contrasted  with  the  lost  Eden  of  her  boarding- 
house  near  Berkeley  Square,  where  her  drawing-rooms  were 
so  elegantly  carpeted,  and  where  the  flower  of  "  the  gentry  " 


56  TIM  bunker's  rui.riT. 

resorted  for  "  furnished  lodgings."  Their  daughter,  lovely 
and  blooming  as  a  mountain  nymph,  has  met  and  brought 
me  to  the  cabin,  where  I  am  warmly  entertained,  and  treated 
to  many  stories  of  their  first  wonder-filled  experiences  of  the 
new  country.  The  father  of  the  beautiful  girl — and  a  troop 
of  bright-looking  children  besides — relates  many  amazing 
adventures,  the  crowning  of  all  of  which  is,  that  once  a  roar- 
ing lion  rushed  at  him  and  his  comrade  as  they  were 
descending  the  mountain,  causing  them  much  terror  and  the 
loss  of  many  valuables  cast  aside  in  their  narrow  escape. 
But  next  day  I  learn  from  good  Mrs.  Steen  that  the  lion 
could  only  have  lived  in  the  Londoner's  excited  mind — there 
are  none  ;  but  perhaps  she  felt  she  had  robbed  me  of  a  tell- 
ing point  in  my  notes,  for  she  said,  with  haste  to  make  up 
for  my  lost  lion,  "  If  you  want  to  write  down  something  real 
wonderful,  there  it  is  !  "  she  points  to  a  steak  of  fresh  beef 
hanging  in  her  tree  larder.  "  You  can  tell  how,  in  half  a 
day's  drying,  that  piece  of  beef  will  be  fit  to  cJiip  for  tea,  and 
the  nights  are  so  dry  that  you  may  wash  out  your  clothes  in 
the  evening,  hang  them  up  out  there,  and  in  the  morning 
they  are  quite  fit  to  put  on !  " 


t 


t tn  ^ 


unnn* 


OMING  to  the  entrance  of  the  canon  this  morning, 
very  early,  I  turned  to  look  at  the  fountain  playing 
in  front  of  the  house,  and  find  I  have  not  taken  the 
best  view.  It  is  lovely  now,  when  the  trees  make  a  sombre 
background.  It  fairly  sparkles,  this  fair  home,  before  these 
trees  and  the  Major  Domo  standing  black  against  the  hot 
sky.  I  stop  to  note  down  this  new  idea  of  it  on  my  way  to 
Lady  Ellen's  Bower^  where  now  I  sit  at  ease,  content  with 
life.  It  is  quite  the  same  to  me  that  there  is  a  storm  com- 
ing, and  that  excursionists  pass  by,  curiously  peering  at  me. 
My  drawing  finished,  I  lean  back  against  the  pine-tree 
seat,  and  listen  to  a  story  from  the  voice  of  Lady  Ellen  her- 
self— the  story  for  which  I  have  earnestly  begged — of  real 
Indian  life,  quite  true  and  unexaggerated.  If  I  could  as 
well  give  the  manner  of  the  relator ! — but  that  and  the 
beauty  of  this  bower  that  bears  her  name,  are  alike  beyond 
the  power  of  my  pen  to  reproduce. 


5 8  QUEEN  S  CANON. 

LADY  ELLEN'S    STORY. 

My  only  brother  was  killed  by  Indians  four  years  ago. 
He  had  been  a  fur  trader  for  many  years,  and  in  his  youth 
had  hunted  over  this  very  ground.  I  remember  him,  when 
I  was  a  little  girl,  telling  me  of  the  springs  which  we  now 
call  Manitou,  how  beautiful  was  their  site,  how  sparklingly 
they  bubbled  up,  and  how  wonderfully  healing  were  their 
waters.  The  Indians  came  to  camp  around,  to  bathe  in 
and  drink  of  them.  Coming  in  these  after  years  with  my 
children,  all  these  stories  came  back  to  me  vividly  as  I 
stood  with  my  little  people  in  the  veritable  wonderland, 
at  the  foot  of  Pike's  Peak.  While  on  my  wedding  tour  we 
made  a  visit  to  Ottertail  Lake,  one  hundred  and  ninety 
miles  north  of  St.  Paul,  Minnesota.  My  brother  was  en- 
camped there  with  his  Indians.  The  journey  was  made  in 
those  clumsiest  of  vehicles,  the  Indian  Red  River  carts, 
wooden — without  a  bit  of  iron.  A  wretched  little  Indian 
pony  toiled  along  with  each  cart,  getting  many  a  blow  from 
its  Indian  driver.  I  think  it  is  Porte  Crayon  who  has  made 
such  a  good  drawing  of  one  of  these  trains.  When  night 
came  there  was  a  halt ;  we  being  in  spring  wagons  went  on, 
leaving  the  train  behind  us,  and  never  saw  it  again  till  we 
had  been  ten  days  in  camp.  But  it  would  be  impossible  for 
me  to  relate  to  you  all  the  adventures  of  this  wild  trip.  My 
brother's  wife  was  an  Indian.  In  their  wild  hunting  life, 
the  care  of  children  had  been  too  hard  for  both  parents  and 
little  ones,  so  their  two  children  had  been  in  my  charge  ever 


queen's  canon.  59 

since  their  infancy,  and  it  was  five  years  since  their  mother 
had  seen  them.  Now  I  was  bringing  them  to  meet  her.  At 
almost  the  end  of  our  journey,  one  of  our  horses  failed  us, 
and  as  the  Sioux  were  on  the  war-path,  it  was  decided  that 
I  should  take  the  children  and  go  on  to  the  camp,  conducted 
by  an  Indian  called  "The  Eyes,"  because  of  his  wonderful 
sight,  and  send  back  fresh  horses.  We  drove  across  the 
prairie  where  no  road  had  ever  been,  and  at  nightfall  reached 
a  birch  forest  on  the  borders  of  a  lake.  The  great  birch 
trees,  white  and  ghost-like,  stood  up  around  me,  while  the 
two  children  slept  soundly.  Far  out  on  the  lake  were 
Indians  in  their  canoes,  fishing  by  their  flaring  birch-bark 
torches  ;  beside  me  sat  the  silent  Eyes,  neither  able  nor  will- 
ing to  speak  a  word  to  me.  It  was  late  at  night  when  we 
reached  the  camp.  I  had  covered  my  face  with  a  thick  veil, 
to  keep  off  the  mosquitoes.  The  wagon  stopped.  Eyes 
stood  up  and  called  out  something  which  I  recognized  as 
my  brother's  name.  I  uncovered  my  face,  but  could  see 
nothing,  all  was  thick  darkness  ;  but  suddenly,  as  if  they 
had  come  out  of  the  ground,  Indians  crowded  around  with 
torches.  If  I  had  had  an  artist  hand,  I  could  have  made 
a  wonderful  picture  of  that  weird  scene — those  wild  figures, 
the  wigwams  and  lodges,  the  children  roused  from  sleep, 
their  faces  full  of  wonder,  the  strange  light  from  the  glaring 
torches,  and  the  quiet  lake  shining  and  glancing.  While  I 
sat  spell-bound,  the  mother  of  the  children  came  to  the 
wagon's  side — one  long  look  she  gave,  turned  half  round, 
buried  her  head  in  her  blanket,  and  uttered  such  a  cry  !     It 


6o  queen's  canon. 

was  as  if  some  dumb  creature  had  been  suddenly  gifted 
with  voice.  It  expressed  the  very  agony  of  joy.  It  had 
been  her  wish  that  the  children  should  come  to  me  ;  but 
the  prospect  of  ever  seeing  them  again  must  have  seemed  so 
vague,  so  improbable,  that  she  could  only  hope  for  its  reali- 
zation in  the  land  of  the  Great  Spirit — and  now  they  were 
here  !  I  am  a  mother  now,  so  I  can  understand  what  that 
meeting  was  to  her. 

Next  day  my  husband  and  brother  came  safely  into  camp. 
We  stayed  about  two  weeks,  and  led  a  life  so  wild,  so  unreal, 
it  comes  back  to  me  now  like  a  dream  out  of  another  exist- 
ence. My  brother  visited  us  many  times  afterwards,  at 
long  intervals,  generally  leaving  the  children  with  us.  He 
was  one  of  the  noblest  specimens  of  mankind  I  ever  saw. 
At  his  last  visit  he  took  his  children  back  with  him,  having 
made  a  home  on  a  ranche  in  Montana.  Some  years  later, 
his  wife  having  died,  he  determined,  at  our  mother's  urgent 
wish,  to  move  back  to  St.  Paul  ;  but  the  intention  was  never 
fulfilled.  Sitting  one  evening  with  his  eldest  daughter  at  a 
game  of  chess,  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door,  and  six 
Indians  came  in.  Supper  was  prepared  for  them,  and  having 
eaten,  they  opened  their  business.  They  had,  they  said, 
brought  back  some  horses  which  had  been  stolen  from  my 
brother  by  some  of  their  young  braves,  and  if  he  would 
send  his  sons  a  few  yards  with  them,  they  would  drive  the 
horses  into  the  ranche.  Only  the  oldest  boy  was  at  home, 
and  he  went  with  them,  they  telling  him  to  ride  in  advance, 
as  he  had  the  best  horse.     They  had  gone  but  a  little  way, 


queen's  canon.  6 1 

when  the  boy  heard  a  pistol  snap  behind,  and  turned 
quickly  ;  but  the  Indian  had  already  hidden  the  pistol,  and 
was,  with  seeming  innocence,  snapping  a  whip.  My  nephew 
understood  it  all,  yet  rode  on  as  coolly  as  he  could.  But 
a  few  minutes,  however,  and  the  same  Indian,  coming  close 
to  him,  said,  "  You  have  a  great  heart,"  and  at  the  same 
moment  shot  him,  the  ball  entering  near  the  ear  and  passing 
through  the  cheek.  As  he  fell  from  his  horse,  several  Indians 
sprang  upon  him,  rifled  his  pockets,  and  left  him  for  dead. 

Among  the  Indians  at  the  house  was  a  young  man  who 
had  been  brought  up  by  my  brother.  He  had  been  sitting 
with  his  blanket  drawn  around  him,  apparently  in  trouble. 
My  brother,  noticing  this,  said  to  him,  "  Natuscho,  what  has 
gone  wrong  with  you  ?  Come  out  and  tell  me  what  ails 
you,  and  we  will  see  what  can  be  done  for  you."  They  went 
out  into  the  bright  moonlight,  and  the  other  Indians  imme- 
diately rose  and  took  their  guns  from  the  walls  where  they 
had  hung  them,  and  went  toward  the  door.  One  of  the  chil- 
dren called  out,  "What  are  you  going  to  do  with  the  guns?" 
"  To  shoot  at  a  mark,"  was  the  reply.  As  they  passed  out, 
one  of  the  Indians  turned,  and,  taking  the  youngest  child  in 
his  arms,  said :  "  I  don't  want  them  to  do  it."  Instantly  the 
eldest  girl  sprang  to  her  feet,  crying,  "  You  mean  harm  to 
my  father.  If  you  touch  him,  the  very  forest  leaves  will  cry 
out  against  you  !  "  As  she  rushed  to  the  door  she  saw  her 
father  fall,  shot  through  the  heart  by  the  wretch  whom  he 
had  brought  up  !     Was  it  not  like  nursing  the  adder? 

My  nephew  had  dragged  himself,  wounded  and  bleeding, 


62  queen's  canon. 

to  the  house,  calling,  "  Father,  father !"  just  as  that  dear 
father  fell  murdered.  In  a  moment  my  poor  niece  compre- 
hended the  whole  dreadful  plot,  and  passing  by  her  dead 
father,  right  through  the  group  of  savages  that  surrounded 
his  body,  went  to  her  brother,  whom  she  raised  and  bore 
to  the  house,  and  laid  him  on  the  bed.  Again  she  went, 
taking  with  her  the  old  grandmother,  and,  between  them, 
they  bore  my  brother's  body,  and  laid  him  beside  his  still 
living  son.  All  that  dreadful  night  they  passed  together 
with  but  the  doors  between  them  and  the  fiends  half-mad- 
dened by  this  taste  of  blood.  When,  long  after,  their 
father's  mother  asked  them,"  What  did  you  do,  my  children?" 
they  said,  "What  could  wc  do,  grandmamma,  but  pray?" 
Once  during  the  night,  when  the  brother  was  fainting  from 
loss  of  blood,  a  little  sister,  only  twelve  years  old,  took  a 
bucket  and  passed  out  through  the  room  where  the  wretches 
were  gathered.  Looking  at  them  calmly,  she  said  :  "  Yo'u 
dare  not  touch  me!  "  Awed  by  the  sight  of  this  brave  child, 
they  let  her  go  unmolested  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the 
house  to  the  spring.  Nor  had  one  of  them  courage  to  enter 
the  room  where  their  victims  lay.  Many  times  through  the 
night  the  handle  of  the  door  had  been  turned,  but  they  came 
no  farther.  When  morning  dawned  they  rode  away,  having 
destroyed  everything  which  they  could  not  carry  off;  the 
whole  party  numbered  thirty. 

When  they  were  gone  the  eldest  girl  walked  half  a  mile 
to  the  toll-gate,  told  what  had  happened,  and,  returning  to 
the  house,  waited  for  help  to  come. 


queen's  canon.  6 


My  nephew  recovered,  and  still  lives  on  the  ranchc.  The 
younger  brother  has  since  been  killed  by  Indians.  The  girls 
are  with  my  sister  in  Minnesota.  Looking  over  a  memo- 
randum-book of  my  mother's,  the  other  day,  I  saw  :  "  Au- 
gust, — ,  — .  My  poor  boy  murdered  by  Indians !  "  and  I 
wondered  if  any  of  the  Peace  Commission  had  such  a  record 
among  their  private  memoranda.  My  brother's  only  offense 
was  having  strongly  opposed  the  war  projected  by  these  red 
devils  against  the  white  settlers.  They  feared  his  influence, 
so  murdered  him  in  this,  their  own  cowardly  fashion.  Im- 
mediately after  his  death  the  Pequod  war  broke  out.  *  *  * 

NELLIE'S  CLIMB  UP  THE  CANON. 

"Yesterday"  and  "to-day"  are  words  bearing  very 
opposite  meanings  to  me  just  now  ;  for,  while  stiff  and  ach- 
ing, I  think  only  of  to-day's  pain,  yesterday's  pleasure  being 
left  far  behind,  till 

"  Remembrance  wakes  with  all  her  busy  train, 
Swells  at  my  breast,  and  turns  the  past  to " 

The  rhyme   is  spoiled,  for  I    must   put  pleasure   instead  of 
pain 

I  congratulated  myself  on  being  finely  equipped  for  the 
tramp  up  the  Canon — short  walking-dress,  stout  boots,  and 
veil  tied  over  my  much  suffering  and  rebellious  nose,  for 
the  sun  burns  fearfully  here.  But  after  the  first  quarter  of  a 
mile,  which  brought  us  to  "  The  Bath,"  the  loveliest  ever 


64  queen's  canon. 

Naiad  bathed  in,  my  heart  misgave  me.  My  boots  seemed 
most  unfit  to  be  trusted,  my  dress  a  mere  incumbrance,  my 
veil  no  shield  ;  for,  looking  upward,  there  rose  before  us  a 
straight  wall  of  stones,  bedded  in  gritty  sand.  Netta 
was  the  foremost  of  the  climbers,  Lottie  and  the  boys  fol- 
lowed, and  I,  poor  I,  brought  up  the  rear,  dolefully  con- 
scious of  my  Eastern  inability  to  affront  these  aspiring 
paths.  Chase,  with  a  tin  pail  full  of  lunch,  was  my  partner 
and  help,  for  he  showed  me  where  to  plant  each  footstep, 
how  to  get  a  moment's  grasp  on  the  loose  and  slippery 
stones,  and  how  to  dig  my  feet  in  the  rolling  sand,  so  as  not 
to  roll  with  it.  I  had  my  little  basket  of  fruit  strapped  to 
my  belt,  but  never  was  fruit  so  scattered,  even  by  Ceres 
herself,  as  was  my  small  store  by  the  time  we  got  to  the 
top,  burned  and  gasping.  There  we  found  the  others  sitting 
quietly  under  the  shade  of  a  pine  tree.  A  long  rest,  and  a 
slight  refreshment  with  the  remains  of  my  fruit-store,  gave 
us  courage  to  contemplate  the  situation,  and  decide  on  the 
choice  of  the  different  ways  to  explore  the  canon. 

The  Bath,  called  also  the  Punch-bowl,  is  a  great  pool  hol- 
lowed out  of  the  solid  rock,  eight  or  ten  feet  wide.  Unless 
one  swims  across  this,  the  only  alternative  is  to  climb  the 
mountain,  descend  on  the  other  side,  and  walk  four  miles 
through  the  bed  of  the  creek,  stumbling  over  dry  branches 
and  briers,  and  crossing  the  occasional  wet  places  on  natural 
bridges  of  logs.  This  we  determined  to  do,  and  with  one 
look  at  the  view  spread  before  us,  we  commenced  the  de- 
scent.    Around    us  rose  the  rocks,   one  piled  on   another, 


queen's  canon.  65 

reaching  farther  than  sight  could  follow  in  the  dazzling  sun- 
light ;  below  us,  f^ir  down   in  the  valley,  the  stream  rushed 
over  the  stones,  singing  so  loud  that  we  could  hear  it  even 
at  that   height,  great   silver   pines   bordering  the  bed  of  the 
stream,  blue-jays  darting  among  them  "like  winged  flowers." 
We,  the  petticoated  ones  of  the  party,  tucked  our  draperies 
taut  and  snug,  and  went  sliding,  slipping,  tripping,  tumbling, 
till  we  felt  we  must  be  turning  into  atoms  of  an  avalanche, 
whirling  down   that  awful  slide  till  we  came  breathless  and 
almost   stunned  to   the  other   side  of   "  The   Bath."      But 
through   it   all   the   brave  bearer  of  the  tin   pail   stuck  to  it 
with   unswerving  constancy.       Luckily  for   us,  by  and  by, 
when,  hungry  and  tired,  we  found  in   its   good  contents  the 
material  of  a  famous  lunch.      Now,  after  a  short  pause  for 
repairs,  commenced    our   four-mile  walk.     Many  a   tumble 
from   the  slippery  stepping-stones   into  the   shallow  water  ; 
many  a  merry  laugh  as  the  boys,  over-brave  and  daring, 
soused  into  the  holes,  getting  their  blue  flannel  suits  well 
wet.     Over  logs  and  branches  of  fallen  trees,  crossing  and 
re-crossing  the  little  stream  for  an  hour,  we  came  to  a  pretty 
sparkling   water-fall.      This   seemed   to   be    the    end  ;  but, 
going  farther,  we  found  a  little  way  up,   cut  through   the 
mountains,  a  narrow  pass,  where  only  three  could  go  abreast. 
Through  this,    we    came    upon   the    loveliest   view  of   all. 
Rocks  piled  up  on  every  side,  of  every  variety  of  shape  and 
color,  all  life  and  vegetation  crushed  out  of  their  arid  sides, 
save  now  and  then  a  pine  clinging  desperately  in  some  slight 
crevice  ;  over  our  heads  they  towered  threateningly,  taking 


66  queen's  canon. 

no  note  of  our  noisy  party  save  a  grand,  solemn  echo,  which 
they  now  and  then  sent  back  to  our  puny  shouts.  Silent 
and  awful,  the}'  hold  their  secrets  and  their  treasures,  wait- 
ing till  the  "  open  Sesame  "  of  science  comes  to  wrest  them 
from  their  keeping.  Turning  in  this  pass  to  the  right,  we 
came  to  a  nearly  perpendicular  rock,  and  here  were  the  fore- 
most of  our  explorers,  who  had  climbed  a  round,  smooth 
boulder,  a  few  feet  separated  from  the  rocky  wall.  Like 
flies  they  looked,  clinging  to  its  smooth  surface,  afraid  to 
move  an  inch,  lest  they  should  slip  into  the  deep  water  flow- 
ing between  their  perch  and  the  main  rock.  Netta"s 
brother  was  there,  luckily;  he,  with  his  broad,  flat  climbing 
shoes,  clinging  more  firmly,  and  was  able  to  help  the  rest.  Nat 
declared  he  would  try  the  "  other  way  ;  "  so,  with  hands 
upon  the  main  rock,  and  feet  striding  the  stream,  and  rest- 
ing on  the  boulder,  he  crept  and  sidled  to  the  end.  I, 
inspired  with  sudden  ambition,  rushed  at  the  rock,  but  once 
on  it,  there  the  impulse  ended.  I  could  neither  advance  nor 
retreat,  but  adhesiveness,  suddenly  developed  to  a  most 
unexpected  extent,  enabled  me  to  keep  my  hold.  One  slip, 
and  in  full  expectation  of  a  plunge  in  the  cold  water  be- 
neath, I  felt  myself  going — but  my  feet  were  seized  by  Nat, 
Mr.  M.  caught  my  hands,  and  I  was  safe.  A  few  steps  now, 
and  we  were  at  the  end  of  the  Queen's  Canon,  that  is,  at 
the  farthest  point  yet  reached,  and  one  to  which  few  explor- 
ers have  attained.  I  could  hardly  understand  how  we  had 
succeeded  in  getting  to  it,  till  Mr.  M.  bade  me  look  back 
and  see  how,  by  catching  at  every  slight  projection  of  the 


queen's  canon.  67 

rock,  and  lying  flat  on  the  rounded  boulder,  we  had  one  by 
one  made  the  passage. 

Here  our  lunch-pail  nobly  fulfilled  its  high  destiny,  for  the 
delicious  bread  and  butter  and  cold  meat  which  it  had  kept 
cool  and  dry  for  us  were  of  priceless  worth  in  giving  us  new 
strength  and  vigor,  and  after  the  last  crumb  had  been  eaten, 
we  gathered  ourselves  up  to  push  on  again.  Half  a  mile  far- 
ther we  reached  the  "  Seven  Baths,"  the  most  beautiful,  but 
the  most  difficult  spot  we  had  yet  encountered,  with  many 
new  obstacles  added  to  like  ones  of  the  preceding  part  of  our 
excursion. 

We    had    succeeded    in    getting    past    five    of    the    seven 
"bowls"  (or  baths),  and  found  then  that  our  only  chance  of 
getting  onward,  by  a  part  of  the  rock  rounding  at  a  certain 
turn,  was  precluded  by  a  sharp,  uncompromising  rock  jutting 
out  just  in  our  path.     One  of  our  boys  scaled  up  the  face  of 
the  rock,  but  found  a  pass.age  quite  hopeless  ;  at  his  call  for 
help  to  get  back,  we  tried  to  reach  him,  but  at  that  moment 
a  large  piece  of  rock  was  loosed  and  came  tumbling  down  on 
the  head  of  poor    Netta,    stunning    her    and  causing  univer- 
sal consternation.     Cold  water,  freely  applied,  restored   her, 
but  the  accident  effectually  checked  all  further  efforts  at  the 
exploration   of   Queen's  Cafion    for    that    day.     We    turned 
back  rather  crest-fallen,  but  the  merriment  was  restored  to 
our    party    by    Lottie's  sudden  splash    and  flounder  in    the 
water.     Startled  by  the  noise,  I  let  my  paper  and  pencil  slip 
from  my  hand,  and  off  they  sailed,  rejoicing  in  happy  escape 
from  the  miserable  sketch  to  which  they  had  been  doomed  ; 


68  queen's  canon. 

but  a  brave  dart  and  clutch  recaptured  them,  and  I  had,  at 
our  halt,  the  pleasure  of  securing  the  first  view  of  "  The 
Seven  Baths  "  that  has  ever  yet  been  put  on  paper. 

A  thunder-shower,  with  pelting  rain,  accompanied  our 
homeward  march. 

What  a  condition  we  were  in  as  we  reached  our  longed-for 
home — wet  and  dilapidated,  and  oh,  how  weary  I  But  bath 
and  brush  soon  made  all  right,  and  the  eventful  day  was 
closed  by  a  merry  dance  and  lovely  music,  and  our  sleep  was 
sweet,  although  broken  now  and  then  by  a  sudden  start,  as  in 
our  dreams  we  fell  off  the  dreadful  precipices  and  plunged 
into  the  rushino;  stream. 


T    is   high   holiday  for   the  children  of  the    "  New 
Town,"    to-day,    for   the   circus   has   arrived,    and 
causes  no  little  excitement.     Away  out  here  a  cir- 
cus is  an  event  of  the  utmost  consequence,  and,  as  it  is  the 
first  time  of  its  appearance   in  Colorado  Springs,  the  whole 
population  is  stirred,  the  news  has  spread  far  and  wide,  send- 
ing men,  women  and  children,  who  could  by  any  means  find 
horses  to  bring  them,  and  coin  enough  to  admit  them  to  cir- 
cus delights.     This  morning  there  was  a  gorgeous  procession 
of  the  ''Company,"  the  "Forest  Monarch"  marching  along 
as  dry  and  dusty  as  the  road  itself,  and  two  young  buffaloes 
looking  savage  and  solemn  on  the  crowds  gathered  around. 
Our  children  had  come  from  Glen  Eyrie,  their  eyes  dancing 
in  anticipation  of  the  wonders  awaiting  them  at  the  after- 
noon performance.     Special  trains  came   puffing   along  the 
"  narrow  gauge,"  mightily  important,  but  a  little  taken  down 
by  their  having  been  of  space  too  circumscribed  to  admit  the 
"  Fat  Woman,"  who   had   to  come   rolling  on  in   a  prairie 
schooner;    but  she  did  come,  true  to  time,  and    the   tents 
went  up,  with  the  lemonade  and  candy  booths,  the  drums 
and  brass  band,  and  all  the  belongings  of  a  real   traveling 


70  THE   NEW   TOWN. 

circus.  In  the  evening,  when  wc  "  honored  the  perform- 
ance," we  could  sec  another  proof  of  the  "  enterprise  "  of  the 
Company,  in  the  flaring  jets  of  gas  which  they  manufactured 
"  as  required."  What  startling  effects  of  color  came  out ! 
The  lads  and  lasses  in  true  Western  toilettes,  where  blue  con- 
tends with  scarlet,  orange  with  green.  Knots  of  purple, 
pink,  or  yellow,  adorned  the  hair  of  the  belles,  which  was 
worn  simply  flowing  over  the  shoulders;  they  had  but  fol- 
lowed Dame  Nature's  summer  fashion-plate,  wherein  glow 
and  sparkle  blue  mountains  without  any  softening  veil  of  dis- 
tance green  ;  green  trees,  snow-white  soapflowers  (or  Spanish 
daggers),  and  long  stretches  of  goldenest  sunflowers.  The 
entertainment,  not  bad  of  its  kind,  fulfilled  its  end  of  giving 
intense  pleasure  to  young  and  old.  There  was  much  lemon- 
ade circulated  quietly,  but  more  briskly  as  the  performance 
drew  to  a  close,  and  at  the  last  anxiously  pressed  on  the 
attention  of  beaux,  who  were  urged  to  refresh  their  fair  com- 
panions. "  Only  half-price,  gentlemen  ;  elegant  lemonade, 
ladies  and  gentlemen,  only  half-price  !  "  but  there  was  much 
stock  left  on  hand,  for  the  audience  were  already  dispersed, 
and  almost  before  the  last  lingering  little  boy  had  departed, 
the  tent  was  down  and  rolled  awa}^,  the  animals  hustled  on 
the  waiting  car,  the  fat  woman,  with  the  squeaking-voiced 
dwarf  cuddled  close  to  her  comfortable  lap,  stowed  into  the 
"  schooner,"  and  the  great  Western  Circus  was  only  a  suc- 
cession of  dots  in  the  distance. 

"Well,  Clark,  w^hat  did  you  like  best?" 

Little  curly-head  looked  up.  "  I  liked  it  most  when  the 
man  put  his  head  in  the  elephant's  mouth  I  " 


o 


M 


N  the  gay  party  assembled  for  an  excursion  to 
Pueblo  and  the  coal  mines,  I  had  the  good  fortune 
to  be  included.  The  feelings  of  our  entire  com- 
pany are  expressed  in  a  letter'"'^  of  warm  and  sincere  thanks 
to  General  Palmer,  and  the  officers  of  the  Central  Colorado 
Improvement  Company,  for  their  many  kindnesses  and 
courtesies. 

On  that  trip  I  first  comprehended  the  luxury  of  travelling 
by  a  "special"  train;  resting  in  an  easy  chair,  listening  to 
stories  of  long-ago  in  these  regions,  when  railroads  were 
unthought  of — rushing  at  a  speed  of  forty  miles  an  hour, 
but  stopping  at  will  wherever  scenery  or  incident  invited  our 
stay.  This  was  the  very  poetry  of  motion,  or,  at  least,  the 
refinement  of  steam  traveling.  As  we  approached  Pueblo, 
a  great  change  was  apparent  in  the  character  of  the  scenery. 
Pike's  Peak  was  grander,  the  Spanish  Peaks  and  Cheyenne 
Range  more  lofty  and  varied  in  outline,  the  Arkansas  more 
rapid  and  winding,  with  the  added  beauty  of  tall,  graceful 
cottonwood-trees  risino-  to  a  f^reat  height  on  its  banks. 


*  In  Colorado  Springs  Gazette  of  l6th  August. 


J2  PUERI.O   AND   THE   COAL   MINES. 

Pueblo,  now  a  bright  and  growing  business  town,  is  new 
and  fresh  in  ahnost  all  its  streets  and  buildings.  A  few 
of  the  low  adobe  houses,  which  were  once  the  only  dwellings 
of  the  town,  still  remain  at  the  entrance  ;  but  the  new  city 
has  taken  its  station  on  a  high,  breezy  bluff,  one  of  the 
loveliest  possible  sites.  From  Pueblo  to  the  coal  mines  is 
the  wildest  bit  of  country  I  have  yet  seen.  The  climate  in 
winter  is  very  fine,  and  there  is  a  large  hotel  projected  close 
to  a  spring  of  iron  and  soda,  where  invalids  may  pass  the 
whole  season  in  comfort  of  sky  and  sunshine,  both  of  which 
w^e  nearly  forget  as  we  enter  the  mines.  By  the  twinkling 
lamps  carried  in  the  miners'  hats  we  see  and  wonder  at  all 
the  dark  processes  of  mining.  A  friend  wrote  for  me  some 
of  the  salient  points  in  the  history  of  these  mines  and  of 
the  miners  ;  and,  only  that  my  space  is  too  small,  I  would 
gladly  transcribe  his  letter.  The  men  whose  lives  are  spent 
in  these  sad  underground  shades  can  have  but  gloomy  and 
cheerless  lives.  He  says :  •'  The  work  is  very  hard.  Often 
the  '  cuts '  are  made  by  the  miner  while  lying  on  his  side, 
the  pick  used  by  working  it  over  the  shoulder,  the  hole 
drilled,  filled  with  powder,  and  blasted,  the  daring  workman 
still  in  this  uncomfortable  position.  Some  compensation 
they  do  manage  to  find  in  the  spending  of  their  hardly- 
earned  wages."  Beef,  mutton,  vegetables,  and  pudding, 
cloth,  muslin,  silk,  and  shoes  are  their  ideas  of  "  comfort,  of 
life !  "  As  we  emerged  from  the  black  pit  into  the  day, 
made  dazzling  by  contrast,  a  huge  miner,  who  has  been  our 
guide  and  general  informant,  calls  out  to  "  Dave,"  to  know 


3 

o 

GO 

£■ 
o 

a? 


PUEBLO  AND  THE  COAL  MINES.  JT, 

if  the  new  beer  had  come.  Now,  "  Dave  "  has  been  pointed 
out  to  us  as  the  character  of  the  phice — I  should  say,  Dave 
and  his  mule,  as  the  two  are  but  parts  of  one  character, 
whole  and  indivisible.  The  Dave  part  is  a  hunchback,  the 
mule  a  marvel  of  strong  thews  and  long  ears.  Dave's  voice 
is  as  the  herald  and  proclaimer  of  all  mining  movements, 
heard  long  before  even  the  ray  of  his  lamp  or  the  tip  of  the 
mule's  ear  reach  the  mouth  of  the  mine.  They  bring  out 
the  coal  and,  blessed  compensation,  bring  in  the  beer. 
"  Who  will  you  have  to  bring  in  this  beer?"  calls  General 
Palmer  down  the  shaft.  A  great  shout  from  mingled  voices 
answers,  "  Dave  !"  and  Dave  responds  lustily,  and  the  mule 
rattles  his  bell  gayly,  as  both  disappear  with  the  refreshing 
can.  We  turn  away  from  these  living  tombs  with  a  little 
slow  of  comfort  in  our  minds,  as  we  know  that  there  is  still 
even  that  compensation  left  to  the  hard  lives  passed  in  the 
Pueblo  Coal  Mines. 


t  ■*■,  + 

|l|oiiii:iij     nt    paijli* 


AND  THE  GARDEN  OF  THE  GODS. 

Extract  from  a  letter  of  GENERAL  Palmer. 

HE  remarkable  rock  formations  which  I  have  at- 
tempted to  delineate,  may  seem  to  be  rather  the 
creation  of  the  artist's  fancy  than  the  result  of  even 
the  most  eccentric  contortion  of  nature.  The  letter  which 
I  am  kindly  permitted  to  use,  is  given  not  alone  for  its  attes- 
tation to  my  honesty ;  but  because  of  its  vivid  description 
of  the  weird  region,  which  cannot  be  observed  from  too  many 
stand-points.     It  was  written  several    years  ago,  during  an 

early  exploration  of  the  country. 

*         *          *          *         *         vf         *          *         4:-         * 

"  Right  along  the  base  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  where  the 
first  range  struggles  to  leave  the  plain,  sixty-two  miles 
south  of  Denver,  is  a  park  of  surpassing  loveliness,  covered 
M'ith  verdure,  and  interspersed  with  fantastic  forms  of  stone. 
From  the  upper  end,  rises  dark  and  frowning,  over  a  thou- 
sand feet  perpendicular,  the  mountain  wall ;  here,  showing 
the  bare  cliffs  and  peaks  of  granite  and  porphyry  ;  there, 
covered  with  dense  forests  of  pine.     Out  of  this  wall   open 


^or\urT\er\t   -Pai-U. 


Mor\urt\er\l  -Park. 


MONUMENT   PARK.  75 

deep,  rugged  canons,  immense  chasms  and  ravines,  whence 
come  dancing  and  leaping  the  glad  water,  which  we  shall 
guide  off  into  lakes  and  send  up  in  fountains,  until  the  naiads 
and  water  nymphs  shall  be  tempted  to  make  this  their  home. 

"  Up  these  caiaons  we  shall  be  able  to  explore  till  we  reach 
the  very  summit  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  whence  we  can 
look  down  into  South  Park,  that  magnificent  valley  in  the 
clouds,  and  catch  a  view  of  the  snow  peaks  of  the  range. 
At  our  feet  will  surge  the  great  ocean  of  the  Plains,  visible 
for  two  hundred  miles  to  the  eye  that  can  see  so  far, — all 
the  grand  rolls  and  high  ridges  smoothed  into  a  gently  rip- 
pled sea.  There  is  no  danger  of  exhausting  this  field  of  dis- 
covery, for  the  whole  side  of  the  mountain  range  is  furrowed 
with  these  tortuous  and  solemn  ravines.  How  quiet  they 
are — except  for  the  rushing  water  as  it  hurries  from  its  inac- 
cessible heights  and  recesses — how  weird  are  those  dark  old 
pine  trees  counseUing  with  each  other  in  a  dismal  moan. 
Will  you  care  for  the  great  boulders  which  try  to  block  up 
your  way  ?  or  will  you  delight  to  climb  over  them  and  up 
the  rugged  mountain  side  with  an  alpen-stock  ? 

"  Our  home  itself,  nestled  quietly  at  the  foot  of  these  giant 
cliffs,  will  have  no  commonplace  feature;  for  standing 
around  everywhere  are  piles  of  rock,  taking  all  imaginable 
shapes  of  humanity  and  of  human  constructions ;  there  are 
o-oblins  which  came  out  from  their  cavernous  home    in    the 

o 

mountains  one  night,  and  were  fascinated  by  the  beauty  of 
the  place  into  a  too  prolonged  stay  ;  the  rays  of  the  morning 
sun  caught   them,  and  before  they  could   hurry  back,   they 


y^  MONUMENT  PARK. 

were  turned  to  stone.  It  is  impossible  to  describe  the 
quaint  and  sombre  character  these  eldritch  forms  lend  to 
the  scene.  Some  have  the  shape  of  huge  frogs  petrified  as 
they  leaped — others,  of  tall  grenadiers,  straight  and  soldierly 
as  on  the  tour  of  duty  ;  donjons  and  ramparts,  Chinese  man- 
darins, and  vast  furnaces  bulged  out  by  heat. 

"  The  imagination  might  busy  itself  for  a  life-time  in  deci- 
phering the  curious  shapes  found  here  and  in  the  region 
stretching  for  many  miles  north  and  south  along  the  moun- 
tain base.  The  most  wonderful  of  all  being  in  that  strange 
enclosed  park  called  the  Garden  of  the  Gods." 


fPjG  Goi-deq  of  \.[\e   Gods. 


igergnii  s     P 


rit* 


T  last  we  are  in  our  camping-ground,  with  Park 
lands  stretching  around  us  so  far  and  broad 
that  all  sense  of  locality  is  lost,  and  we  would 
find  it  hard  to  say  whence  we  had  come ;  we  only  know 
that  we  have  been  sent  in  advance  of  the  main  camp, 
and  are  here  with  leisure  for  sketching  and  for  enjoying  the 
most  "  realizing  sense  "  of  true  ranche  life.  Sitting  at  break- 
fast, near,  but  not  in  the  log  house,  the  table  of  rough  pine 
boards  adorned  with  red  cloth  and  a  fresh  bouquet  of  exqui- 
site prairie  flowers,  mutton-chops,  potatoes  mashed  and 
browned  to  perfection,  coffee  and  milk  and  cream  ;  near  us 
are  cows  and  horses,  and  the  beautiful,  graceful,  antelopes ; 
broad  slopes  of  green  pasture,  with  long,  cool  shadows 
thrown  here  and  there  ;  skies  of  purest  blue,  and  mountains — 
mountains,  all  around — they  surround  us,  but  the  grand  dis- 
tances take  away  the  feeling  of  being  imprisoned  by  them, 
and  Pike's  Peak  is  so  softened  and  mellowed  by  the  atmos- 
phere, that  all  sharpness  and  grimness  are  quite  melted 
away.     This  ranche,  forming  in  itself  a  noble  estate,  is  the 


78  bergun's  park. 

centre  of  Bergun's  Park.  A  novelty  in  ranche  life  meets  us 
on  entering,  for  the  English  and  comfort-loving  Mr,  T.,  the 
proprietor,  has  made  a  fine  vegetable  garden,  neatly  fenced 
around.  Shining  tin  pans  drying  against  the  brown  logs, 
denote  milk  and  cream.  A  deep  shed  or  alcove  contains  the 
stove  ;  next  to  that  the  large  kitchen  and  dining-room  com- 
bined ;  on  one  side  of  this  a  sleeping-room,  on  the  other  the 
ranchero's  particular  pride  and  care,  the  dairy. 

In  our  wagon  were  three  English  friends,  and  our  good, 
newly-arrived  English  Ann  and  her  husband,  whose  mission 
it  was  to  cook  and  do  for  us.  Ann  had  been  a  servant  of 
Mr.  T.'s  family  in  England,  and  her  long,  pathetic  look  at 
log  walls  and  earthen  floor,  and  Mr.  T.'s  hands  and  face, 
browned  with  real  toil,  expressed  distress,  and  pity,  and 
regret.  "  Indeed,  ma'am,"  she  said,  with  a  heavy  sigh,  "  'tis 
strange  to  see  'im  'ere  ;  but,"  she  added,  reflectively,  "  'e 
looks  much  'ealthier." 

But  Mr.  T.  did  not  seem  to  share  in  her  depressed  feelings 
— he  was  deeply  engaged  in  preparing  our  "  apartments," 
a  supplementary  log  house,  the  second  story  of  which  was 
reached  by  a  ladder  from  the  outside.  He  saw  to  every- 
thing ;  and  brought  me  a  great  basket  of  green  peas  to  shell 
for  dinner  ;  two  little  gray  kittens  were  coiled  on  a  huge  buf- 
falo robe  ;  "  That  is  my  bed,"  said  he,  pointing  to  it  ;  and 
when  I  groaned,  "  How  you  must  ache  every  morning  !  "  he 
laughed,  and  replied,  "  That  was  a  small  item  in  a  rancli- 
man's  life." 

Next  day  our  party  had  come,  and,  with  a  regretful  good- 


bergun's  park.  79 

bye  to  beautiful  Bcr^un,  and  Mr.  T.'s  ranclic,  we  started  in 
full  procession  for  real  camp  life.  The  baggage-wagons  had 
been  sent  to  the  Platte  River,  forty  miles  away,  but  we 
camping  people  filled  five  "  ambulances,"  as  the  wagons 
used  for  camping  are  called.  At  our  halts  we  had  often  to 
depend  on  these  for  shade,  in  which  to  rest  or  lunch,  for  the 
days  were  hot,  though  lovely  and  clear.  The  long  morning 
and  afternoon  rides  were  full  of  novelty  and  enjoyment  ; 
some  of  us  on  horseback,  with  all  sorts  of  devices  for  saddles 
and  riding-habits,  made  marks  for  the  jests  and  merriment 
of  the  rest,  but  often  the  wildest  fun  was  silenced  suddenly 
as  some  overpowering  beauty  of  view  opened  before  us,  and 
the  sunsets  were  of  a  glory  beyond  the  power  of  words  to 
describe. 

Our  first  night  did  not  disappoint  our  hopes  of  an  adven- 
ture, for  two  of  our  wagons  strayed  from  the  rest,  and  were 
honestly,  veritably  lost.  We  were  with  the  stragglers,  and 
very  strange  and  eerie  it  felt,  trying  to  find  the  track  in  the 
deepening  gloom,  our  only  light  coming  from  a  small  oil- 
lamp,  owned  by  one  of  the  provident  ladies.  We  had  been 
promised  fresh  trout  and  grouse  for  supper  by  Governor 
Hunt,  but  supper  and  Governor  Hunt  seemed  vanished  into 
illimitable  space.  But  soon  a  ranche  light  greeted  us,  and 
brightened  hope  and  faith.  A  true  Western  welcome  was 
given  to  us,  and  preparations  for  affording  us  shelter  for  the 
night  were  quickly  made.  We  learned  that  we  had  diverged 
eighteen  miles  from  the  proper  route.  Weary  and  hungry, 
we  took  most  gratefully  the  tea,  and  bread  and   ham,  and 


8o  bergun's  park. 

delicious  butter,  and  then  disposed  our  cramped  limbs  as 
best  we  could  on  the  long  combination  couch.  The  kind 
mistress  of  the  ranche  had  unpacked  all  her  winter  wraps  to 
furnish  us  coverlets.  The  gentlemen  betook  themselves  to 
barn  and  hay-loft,  and  all  got  through  the  night  comfort- 
ably. 

Colonel  Kittridge  and  his  wife  made  our  breakfast  a  feast, 
with  goodness  and  hospitality  presiding.  We  had  to  go  in 
companies  to  the  table,  but  that  was  no  hindrance  to  our 
glee,  for  those  who  waited  had  the  glorious  air  and  the  grass 
and  prairie  flowers  outside  to  compensate  ;  there  was  plenty 
of  time  for  a  drawing,  and,  inside,  the  picture  was  too  strik- 
ing to  leave  without  some  reminding  sketch.  Such  a  won- 
derful deep  and  shadowed  chimney-corner,  built  of  clay  and 
stones  ;  split  log  walls,  hung  with  some  pictures ;  a  clock, 
antique  and  ponderous,  making  its  appearance  there  an 
utterly  unsolvable  enigma  ;  a  great  tub  of  water ;  a  sewing- 
machine  ;  and  a  guitar !  and  the  dominant  figure  of  all  was 
the  lovely  "  ranche  mother,"  with  her  pure  and  refined  face, 
blue  eyes,  and  wavy  hair.  She  consented  to  be  made  a 
picture  of,  as  she  held  her  baby  in  her  arms ;  and,  while  this 
was  being  done,  she  spoke  much  of  their  life,  its  enjoyments 
as  well  as  hardships  ;  they  had  many  visitors  in  winter,  and 
these,  with  the  magazines  and  journals  from  the  East,  made 
the  weary  months  pass  pleasantly. 

Again  on  our  march,  we  come  through  ranches  thickly 
stocked  with  fine  cattle,  on  traces  of  our  lost  main  party — 
they  had  pinned  a  notice  of  where  we  were  to  go  on  a  tree 


Col.  Kith-edge's  -I^aqc?]. 


Our  Carr\p  by  f*ass  Creek. 


r.ERGUN'S    PARK.  8  I 

which  thc\-  thought  wc  could  ncjt  fail  to  sec.  At  noon  we 
met  Governor  Hunt,  and  presently  we  got  into  camp  at  the 
head  of  the  Platte  Canon,  in  South  Park.  In  the  afternoon 
tents  were  pitched,  our  stove-fire  lighted,  and  dinner  cooked. 
Our  dining-room  was  a  large  tent,  a  piece  of  canvas  spread 
for  table-cloth,  carriage  cushions  for  seats.  In  the  open,  or 
sky  kitchen,  wonderful  feats  of  cookery  were  exhibited. 
Our  ebony  empress,  Victoria  Jones,  queening  it  superbly  in 
that  dominion,  and  George,  equal  as  to  shade,  inferior  as  to 
position  and  capacity,  is  prime  minister.  There  is  revolt  in 
his  manly  breast,  though,  for  his  sable  dignit}'  feels  it  an 
affront  to  be  "  ordered  about  "  by — a  woman.  Then  Thomas, 
our  waiter,  comes  with  the  kettle  full  of  fragrant  tea  in  one 
hand,  in  the  other  the  pot  of  steaming  coffee.  From  tin 
cup  and  platter  we  derive  nectar  and  ambrosia  ;  but  the 
table  (i'lidte  of  Olympus  must  have  been  flat  and  tame,  com- 
pared to  ours.  Trout  just  caught,  and  game,  for  our  gen- 
tlemen are  all  mighty,  if  somewhat  bragging  hunters,  and 
occasionally  deign  to  accept  a  weaker  vessel  as  companion. 
Those  who  can  put  the  grasshopper  bait  on  the  hook,  and 
take  off  the  poor,  wriggling  prey  without  faintheartedness 
like  to  go — all  who  can't — decline.  A  last  affecting  keep- 
sake to  our  departing  train  in  Colorado  Springs  was  a  pow- 
erful, if  not  melodious,  tin  horn.  To  the  dismal  wail  of 
this  we  must  rise,  dress,  breakfast,  pack  up,  and  decamp. 
This  last  proceeding  is  the  only  part  of  the  time  in  which 
getting  a  sketch  is  possible,  and  pen  and  ink  are  in  rapid 
use  while  the  horses  are  being  put  to,  and  bundles  and  all 


82  bercun's  park. 

tb.c  innumerable  belongings  of  camp-life  arc  being  stowed 
away;  then  we  gather  into  the  ambulances  and  look  our  last 
on  the  traces  of  our  short  stay. 

But  it  is  in  the  evenings,  round  our  blazing  camp  fires, 
that  wc  feel  the  full  magical  delight  and  romance  of  our  life. 
Between  the  tin  horn's  sad  howl  and  the  chill  damp  of 
morning,  the  first  hour  of  day  draws  rather  heavily  on 
patience  and  courage,  and  the  noonday  rides  are  often  hot 
and  weary;  but  at  night  everything  inharmonious  has  disap- 
peared ;  in  genial  circle  we  surround  the  blazing  logs,  and 
with  T}-rol  zither,  merry  wit  and  thrilling  story,  the  hours 
spin  on  till  they  are  nearly  merged  in  the  "  wee  sma'  "  ones, 
before  we  make  up  our  minds  to  separate. 

As  we  near  the  Platte  the  grass  is  heavy  and  rich — it  is 
orange,  and  red,  and  green.  Nature  revels  in  riches  of 
color  and  material.  Many  minerals  are  found,  and  moss 
agates  are  plentiful.  We  come  on  a  modern  house,  built 
by  Mr.  Hall,  and  we  alight  and  are  invited  to  come  in  and 
see  Mrs.  Hall's  collection  of  minerals,  which  proves  to  be 
very  fine. 

CALIFORNIA   GULCH. 

In  passing  through  California  Gulch,  wc  see  where  some 
of  the  most  earnest  mining  experiments  have  been  made. 
The  scenery  is  very  grim.  Rocks  torn  and  thrown  together, 
sparse  verdure  of  blue-green  tint,  twisted  pines,  often  with- 
ered and  bare.  The  little  vignette  on  the  cover  is  a  picture 
of  a  miner's   cabin,  and  the   miner,  a   blue-eyed,  fair-haired 


BERGUN  S   PARK.  83 

German,  lived  there  alone,  workinj^  for  gold,  washing"  it  out 
of  the  creek.  He  told  us,  in  liis  native  tongue,  never  having 
learned  English,  a  long  story  of  great  good  fortune,  followed 
by  cruel  wrong,  from  a  dishonest  "  partner,"  and  after  losing 
his  hard-earned  gold,  he  had  come  back,  patiently  and  per- 
sistently to  wring  fortune  a  second  time  from  the  grudging 
earth,  this  time  refusing  all  partnerships. 

At  "  Granite"  a  mishap  befell,  for  we  overtook  one  of  our 
carriages  lying  on  its  side,  two  wheels  gone,  and  nothing  of 
the  occupants  to  be  seen  !  We  pushed  on  to  the  village,  a 
most  forlorn  and  miserable  assembly  of  log  cabins.  In  the 
one  "  store  ''  we  found  a  human  being  with  sufficient  life 
and  intelligence  to  answer  our  questions.  None  of  the 
upset  ones  had  been  hurt.  They  had  passed  the  dangerous 
part  of  the  hill  before  the  break-down,  and  had  all  gone  on 
to  Twin  Lakes.  We  turned  and  drove  over  the  hills,  all 
covered  with  wild  sage  brush,  and  presently  came  upon 
another  mining  village.  Here  we  had  to  make  a  haphazard 
choice  between  two  roads — a  wild  enough  one  it  proved  to 
be,  the  one  we  took,  unmarked  by  much  save  a  lonely  little 
graveyard  on  a  dreary  hill,  overlooking  a  log  village,  itself 
very  much  resembling  a  burying-ground  ;  however,  we  ar- 
rived at  our  wished-for  destination — -Twin  Lakes.  There  it 
was  necessary  to  ford  the  Arkansas,  to  reach  the  road.  The 
water  nearly  came  into  the  carriage,  and  the  horses  '  im- 
proved the  occasion  '  by  taking  a  hearty  draught,  and  there 
we  had  such  a  mountain  view  !  A  man,  carr}'ing  home  a 
great  string  of  fish,  tells  us  we  are  more  than  nine  thousand 


84  13ERGUN  S   PARK. 

feet  above  tlie  sea.  The  air  was  sharp  and  cool  as  we  crossed 
from  the  first  beautiful  Lake  to  its  Twin  close  by. 

There  we  found  the  camp  all  pitched  and  supper  being 
prepared,  so  we  fresh  arrivals  turned  in,  and  attended  to 
sleeping  arrangements. 

Next  day  there  was  a  division  in  the  camp-y-an  amicable 
one,  however — some  went  fishing,  others  sketching,  others 
exploring  the  canon  near  the  lake.  This  involved  much 
rough  riding  and  grievous  bumping  over  the  stony  road.  A 
mighty  rain  descended,  driving  us  back  to  the  camp  shelter  ; 
but  we,  too,  had  our  misfortune  while  returning,  for,  at  a 
particularly  disagreeable  part  of  the  gulch,  we  were  over- 
turned on  the  sharp  rocks.  The  terror  of  knowing  that  we 
were  "gone,"  was  a  striking  sensation,  but  we  escaped  Vvith- 
out  much  severe  injury.  Two  of  the  ladies  had  sprained 
ankles,  and  we  were  all  thoroughly  frightened.  We  man- 
aged to  reach  the  hotel  by  the  lake,  when  one  of  our  part)-, 
the  lady  who  has  made  herself  so  well-known  by  her  letters 
on  Colorado,  exhausted  by  fear  and  fatigue,  fainted.  The 
hostess,  a  sensationally-minded  person,  ruslied  to  the  rescue, 
exclaiming,  "  Oh!  what  an  honor  to  have  Grace  Greenwood 
faint  on  my  floor  !  " 

PASS  CREEK. 

After  recovering  from  our  fright,  and  having  refreshed  our 
hungry  selves,  wc  returned  in  the  carriages  with  many  misgiv- 
ings at  the  ominous  slides  and  lurches  which  wc  encoun- 
tered.    At   evening  we  were   in    a  cafion,  the   grandest    but 


^Wiq  liaises. 


^[]e  Deserted  ffiill. 


bergun's  park.  85 

most  gloomy  wc  had  yet  passed.  The  little  ones  cried  with 
fright,  and  cv^en  the  elders  shivered  and  quaked  at  this  ter- 
rific look  into  the  hiding-places  of  Nature,  It  was  truly,  as 
one  of  the  party  said,  the  very  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death. 
Yet  the  most  imposing  name  which  they  could  find  for  this 
mighty  canon  was  "  Pass  Creek  !  " 

Oh  !  how  cheery  the  camp-fires  looked,  and  how  comfort- 
ing was  their  blaze,  coming  from  the  awful  valley  and  the 
pouring  rain.  The  fishers  came  in  with  their  tribute  to  the 
supper-table,  and  night  and  rest  were  very  welcome  to  us 
all. 

Beside  the  lower  lake  they  were  trying  to  make  the  camp 
fire  burn,  but  it  was  a  difficult  matter,  for  there  had  just 
been  a  heavy  shower.  In  a  little  while  the  sun  comes  out 
hot  enough  to  dry,  in  five  minutes,  the  sacques  and  hats 
which  were  wringing  wet.  Fish  has  been  caught  and  is 
brought  home  in  triumph,  which  compensates  fully  for  the 
wetting  incurred  in  catching  them.  The  drawing  of  the 
"Deserted  Mill"  is  finished,  and  it  is  pleasant  to  lie  beside 
the  crackling  fire  on  the  skins  and  blankets  spread  over  the 
wet  grass,  watching  the  preparations  for  dinner,  which  go 
briskly  forward.  Governor  Hunt  should  be  a  "cordon 
bleu" — he  quite  excels  our  two  cooks  in  all  delicacies  of 
broiling  and  baking,  and  how  fresh  and  bright  is  his  talk  the 
while  he  works !  "  For  twenty-seven  years,"  he  says,  "  I 
have  been  learning  this  ;  it  would  be  a  shame  if  I  did  not  do 
it  well."  While  we  lunch,  a  man  comes  up  and  "  squats  "  a 
little  way  off,  to  have  a  chance  word  with  us.     He  is  owner 


86  ibergun's  park. 

of  the  only  inhabited  log  hut  around  the  mill.  Wc  ask  why 
this  mill  is  idle,  and  he  says  when  the  mining  work  fell  off, 
there  was  no  work  left  for  it.  He  staid  here  for  love  of  the 
place,  and  because  he  has  some  horses.  Of  these  he  likes  to 
talk,  and  of  one  especially,  which  loves  sugar,  and  can  be 
coaxed  by  it  to  do  anything,  and  is  not  to  be  frightened  even 
by  a  buffalo-robe.  This  leads  to  a  description  of  buffalo- 
hunting  on  the  plains,  last  winter.  What  a  grand  set  of 
teeth  the  wild  fellow  has!  They  gleam  as  he  tells  how,  half 
the  time  he  has  been  away  from  the  States,  he  has  had 
nothing  but  a  knife  to  eat  with,  and  only  antelope  or  veni- 
son, without  bread  or  salt,  to  live  on.  His  coat  is  in  tatters, 
but  he  talks  of  "  fixing  up  "  his  place,  so  that  all  the  folks 
from  the  States  that  come  a-pleasuring  may  be  more  com- 
fortable than  they  can  be  now,  for  many  stay  a  night  or  two 
with  him  when  they  are  here  fishing— there  is  better  fishing 
here  than  up  at  the  lakes;  and  it  is  certainly  a  lovely 
stream,  this  broad  river  rushing  down  from  the  Twin  Lakes. 
What  a  country!  What  bewildering  beauty,  taking  speech 
away,  but  giving,  in  return,  a  strange  pleasure  in  life — a 
happy,  care-for-nothing  sort  of  feeling. 

Our  camp,  on  the  shore  of  the  upper  lake,  was  close  and 
warm  that  night,  and  we  were  glad  to  leave  it  for  the  fresh, 
pure  air  almost  at  sunrise,  and  to  look  again  at  the  lake, 
lovelier  even  than  it  had  seemed  the  night  before.  The 
miners'  deserted  village  was  to  be  visited  after  breakfast,  and 
a  drawing  to  be  made.  The  village  was  rather  disappointing 
as  a  subject,    and  looked  sad  and   dreary ;   no    blue  smoke 


bkrgun's  park.  87 

curling  against  the  mountain-side  ;  no  miners'  garments,  red 
or  blue,  hanging  up  to  dry  ;  no  babies,  to  open  their  big 
eyes  at  the  strangers;  only  a  little  old  shoe,  patched  by  some 
thrifty  mother  with  pieces  of  cloth,  lying  at  my  feet,  among 
the  wild  sage-bushes.  On  the  steps  of  the  nearest  house  a 
man  is  seated,  and,  after  a  long  look  at  us,  he  comes  across 
the  stream,  and  talks  a  while.  The  name  of  the  place  is 
Da}'ton  ;  its  chief  inhabitants,  now,  are  prairie  dogs.  He  is 
very  lonely  here,  and,  if  agreeable  to  us,  would  like  to  talk. 
By  degrees  we  learn  his  history.  A  Bavarian,  from  near  the 
Rhine;  he  had  made  his  way  from  the  poverty  around  him, 
and  came  to  Illinois,  where  he  had  worked  at  hard  day- 
labor  ;  but  his  health  failed,  and  he  mended  shoes,  not  hav- 
ing talent  enough  to  make  them  ;  and,  finding  much  time  on 
his  hands,  he  studied  English,  and  a  little  Latin,  to  help  him 
with  the  roots.  From  this  awakening  of  the  love  of  knowl- 
edge followed  the  study  of  botany  and  conchology,  and  the 
forming  of  a  fine  collection  of  specimens,  the  introduction  to 
eminent  men,  and,  at  last,  his  appointment  as  botanist  to  the 
Wheeler  expedition.  In  "Wood's  Botanist  and  Florist  "  he 
has  now  a  credit  for  twenty-seven  new  species  of  plants  ;  and 
in  the  ''  American  Journal  of  Conchology  "  a  credit  for  seven 
new  species  of  shells.  A  brave,  self-made  man,  indeed, 
worthy  of  all  respect,  and  of  the  emulation  of  many  a 
struggling  youth. 

The  drawing  finished,  the  conversation  over,  we  said  good- 
bye, and  mounted  into  the  wagon  just  drawn  up  by  Governor 
Hunt,    and   began   the   passage   through   the  valley    of   the 


88  bergun's  park. 

Arkansas,  a  wild,  rougli  gorge,  with  many  a  steep  climb  for 
the  unflagging  ponies.  But  the  moon  shone  bright,  and 
gave  us  hope  and  courage,  and  songs  and  stories  lightened 
the  way.  Among  all  those  strange  scenes  which,  in  the 
moonlight,  made  continually  changing  illusions  to  our  senses, 
we  felt  perfectly  disposed  to  believe  all  the  wild  tales  of 
Indian  raids  and  "  scares,"  and  of  the  adventures  which  our 
guide  and  friend,  Gov.  Hunt,  had  to  relate  ;  and,  as  his 
last  and  most  awe-inspiring  story  came  to  a  close,  so  did  our 
night-ride,  and  we  found  ourselves  once  more  at  our  camp- 
home. 

MOUNT   LINCOLN. 

August   30-31. 

The  ascent  of  Mount  Lincoln  began  from  Fair  Play,  to 
which  place  we  had  come  from  the  Twin  Lakes.  The 
horses  of  our  baggage-wagons  had  turned  rebels  and  run 
away;  so,  camping  not  being  possible,  we  were  obliged 
to  find  beds  in  the  hotel — not  a  pleasant  change  after  the 
camp — but  we  looked  on  it  as  so  much  of  preparation  for 
the  climb. 

So,  on  the  last  day  of  August,  we  set  forth,  a  happy  party  ; 
lumber-wagons,  carriages,  horses  and  mules,  each  bore  a  part 
in  conveying  us.  The  morning  was  fair,  indeed.  Autumn 
tints  had  already  touched  the  trees  ;  the  earth  lay  round,  bro- 
ken and  rugged  from  the  miners'  work  ;  mountains  stood  beau- 
tiful in  the  pure  air  ;  over  all  towered  Mount  Lincoln,  so 
named  by  the  miners  in  honor  of  the  man  whom  they  loved. 

Passing  Alma,  Dudley,  and  many  camps  and  little  settle- 


bergun's  park.  89 

ments  of  miners'  luits,  we  reach  the  silver  mine.  In  strange 
and  inharmonious  contrast  to  the  bright  tints  around,  lay, 
here  and  there,  freshly  fallen  snow  ;  and,  as  we  toil  our  slow 
way  up  the  Mount,  we  glance  down  the  great  crescent- 
shaped  basin  of  the  foot-hills,  rising  on  either  side  of  the 
Platte  Valley,  where,  just  then,  hundreds  of  miners  were 
cooking  their  mid-day  meal.  More  and  more  tortuous  does 
our  path  become,  till  we  must  look  upward  to  steady  eyes 
and  nerves.  The  carriages  of  the  advanced  party  seemed 
just  ready  to  topple  over  on  us.  We  soon  left  all  verdure 
behind,  only  great  splashes  of  a  plant,  crimson-red,  still  ap- 
pear among  the  broken  rocks,  till  we  come  to  the  Montezu- 
ma—the  highest  mine  in  North  America— and  then  we  stand 
on  a  still  higher  point,  to  look  over  the  vast  expanse  of 
mountain,  and  upon  the  Divide,  a  narrow  ridge,  rising  be- 
tween mountains,  where,  should  you  pour  a  cup  of  water, 
half  of  it  would  run  on  one  side  to  the  Pacific,  and  the  other 
half  to  the  Atlantic. 

We  went  to  the  huge  "  Smithy,"  and  saw  some  of  the 
wonders  of  mining.  The  drilling  and  blasting,  and  sorting 
of  ore  into  bags.  William  Cotton,  the  foreman,  has  charge 
of  three  mines  ;  he  has  spent  thirteen  years  in  mining.  The 
wood  which  they  burn  costs  $60  per  cord  ;  but  they  have 
good  food,  excellent  beef,  and  the  bread  which  we  saw 
the  handsome  young  baker  putting  in  the  oven  was  of  the 
most  encouragingly  light  appearance. 

The  miners  gave  us  a  most  friendly  invitation  to  stay  and 
share  their  meal.     They  told   us  that  Anna   Dickinson  and 


90  BERGUN  S    I'ARK. 

her  party  had  dined  with  them.  There  were  seventeen  men 
together,  and  their  trim  house,  with  everything,  beds,  cook- 
ing arrangements,  and  fair-spread  dinner-table,  gave  one  the 
idea  of  a  well-manned  ship  at  sea.  Stopping  to  look  back, 
after  we  had  left  their  house,  to  get  a  sketch  of  it,  we  saw 
that  the  miners  had  gathered  round  Miss  Dickinson,  who 
had  come  back  to  say  good-bye  to  them.  They  stood  in 
honestly-expressed  admiration  of  her  pretty,  gay  costume, 
and  of  her  bright  face.  They  had,  while  our  party  were 
there,  been  telling  one  another  how  famously  she  and  Grace 
Greenwood  were  to  "  write  up  "  their  mines. 

Ten  minutes  later  a  thick  snow  was  falling,  and  we  were 
half-way  down  before  we  saw  the  sun  again.  The  evening 
light  was  on  the  mountain  when  we  reached  the  base;  the 
last  burro  (Mexican  donkey)  has  begun  its  climb,  a  little  keg 
of  water  slung  on  either  side,  to  the  cabins  of  the  miners, 
which  are  far  distant  from  even  the  snow-water. 

In  Fair  Play  again,  and  across  to  our  pleasant  camp  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Arkansas,  thence  home  by  a  different  route 
through  South  Park,  to  behold  fresh  beauties  and  move 
with  constant  delight  forty  miles  each  day  over  a  "  natural  " 
road,  coming  into  camp  at  night  fresh  and  vigorous  as  we 
had  quitted  it  in  the  morning.  The  evening  round  our  last 
camp  fire  was  a  gay  one — we  had  our  Queen  and  Lady 
Ellen,  Grace  Greenwood  and  the  Governor,  the  iNIajor  and 
his  lady,  our  President  and  the  General,  and  a  chorus  of 
young  people,  to  make  us  forget  with  song  and  story  and 
merry  gossip  that  our  happj'  party  would  be  scattered  on  the 


Snor|te:;un\a5nir\e 


Fair    play. 


4 

bergun's  park.  91 

morrow.  Two  great  pictures  abide  in  my  memory  always. 
If  1  could  describe  them  truly  in  words  or  color,  I  should 
make  immortal  fame  for  myself;  they  are  :  our  first  look 
into    South  Park — our  last  on  leavnn;/  it. 


0ttiitaii|^    #^0l0ng. 


f  E  have  come  home  to  Colorado  Springs.  When  we 
first  saw  the  place,  how  lonely  and  far  off  it 
seemed !  Men  working  hard  with  brains  and 
hands,  dwellings  so  new-looking  and  scattered,  women  and 
children  rare  and  admirable  incidents.  It  had  been  our 
home  for  but  a  few  weeks,  yet,  in  that  time,  how  we  have 
found  out  the  people,  their  goodness  and  hospitality,  their 
earnest,  aspiring  lives,  their  true  refinement  of  nature.  One 
cannot  come  into  such  close,  genial  relations  with  these 
people,  and  not  feel  that  from  among  them  will  come  the 
greatest  race  that  the  earth  has  yet  produced.  I  speak 
especially  of  the  women  of  Colorado,  present  and  future. 
There  is  here,  perhaps,  less  worship  of  women's  beauty  and 
accomplishments,  but  man  places  her  nearer  to  himself — she 
shares  and  guides  his  life  and  thought,  is  the  light,  the  com- 
fort, the  home.  With  the  history  of  this  colony  are  con- 
nected tales  of  heroism  which  must,  perhaps,  wait  for 
another  generation  to  recognize  and  honor  as  is  fitting  ;  but, 
from  the  lives  of  the  people  and  their  wondrous  experiences, 
I  carry  back  to  my  tame  Eastern  home,  recollections  which 


THE   FOUNTAIN    COLONY.  93 

will  long  stir  my  heart  and  nerve  me  with  strength  and  faith 
for  all  future  work. 

This  I  take  for  consolation,  amid  all  the  sense  of  incom- 
pleteness and  self-dissatisfaction  which  my  attempts  to  por- 
tray Colorado  scenery  have  left  with  me.  This  evening,  a 
little  weary  after  our  great  camping  expedition,  and  feeling 
the  reaction  of  all  the  excitement  and  novelty  of  the  past 
two  weeks,  I  am  very  conscious  of  this  depressing  sense  of 
failure,  for,  the  sunshine  being  gone,  we  have  nothing  better 
to  do  than  to  watch  the  clouds  shifting  and  circling  around 
the  purple-black  mountains,  and  to  remember  longingly  the 
grandeur  and  brightness  which  defy  the  most  royal  of  the 
kings  and  rulers  in  Art  to  portray  them,  and  I  think  shame- 
facedly and  faint-heartedly  of  my  little  pen-and-ink  bits 
No  landscape  in  the  many  countries  which  I  have  seen  has 
equaled  this.  Even  this  dreary  evening,  how  Cheyenne 
Mountain  stands  in  noble  lines  of  beauty — from  lofty  sum- 
mit to  green  slope  and  plain,  dotted  with  little  rustic  houses  ; 
how  deep  the  voices  of  Nature  in  the  canon  ;  how  the 
seven  water-falls  dash  into  the  swift  currents  ;  and  how  the 
eagles,  in  their  solitary  places  above,  sweep  through  the 
misty  skies,  and  the  great  pines  make  wild  music  through 
the  deep  ravine  !  A  sweet  perfume  comes  into  the  open 
room.  There  is  close  to  the  window  a  pretty  flower  garden. 
Some  one  says,  "  Even  the  flowers  are  dull  to-day;  no  won- 
der we  are  sad."  So  we  close  the  window  and  turn  thank- 
fully to  the  blazing  wood-fire,  and  to  the  bright,  inviting 
tea-table,  with   its   gleaming  silver  and  damask,  the  fair  and 


94  THE    FOUNTAIN    COLONY. 

dear  house-mother  giving  to  all  a  brighter  light,  a  subtler 
charm.  It  is  a  tiny  dwelling,  built  at  cost  of  a  few  hundred 
dollars,  but  it  gives  most  significantly  the  meaning  of  the 
word  "  Home,"  word  of  unfailing  melody  everywhere,  and 
of  perfect  music  in  this  far,  new  country.  Our  talk  round 
the  bright  hearth  is  all  of  ranching,  homesteads,  claims,  and 
pre-empting.  We  have  found  out  so  much  about  these 
important  things,  of  the  time  necessary  to  live  on  a  home- 
stead or  claim,  so  as  to  protect  it  from  the  wretches,  unprin- 
cipled and  unscrupulous,  who  would  "jump"  your  claim 
and  enter  your  homestead  ;  of  the  difficulty  of  finding  a 
ranche  properly  supplied  with  water  and  trout,  buffalo, 
antelope,  and  all  kinds  of  game.  Nora,  anxious  to  make 
provision  for  next  summer,  is  off  to-day  searching  for  Jier 
ranche,  with  the  aid  and  advice  of  our  good  Governor  Hunt. 
The  log  house  is  already  planned,  great  stock  of  books  laid 
up  on  dairy  management,  bcc  culture,  and  care  of  mules, 
horses,  and  half-a-dozen  cows.  Then  the  proprietor  of  the 
magnificent  ranche  called  "  Holt's,"  comes  to  join  our  fire- 
side talk.  His  face,  pale  enough,  as  he  tells  us,  with  care 
and  anxiety  a  year  ago,  is  beaming  with  life  and  happiness 
to-day,  for  all  the  vast  interests  and  machinery  of  his  under- 
taking are  fully  organized,  and  now  in  smooth  working 
order.  It  is  his  ambition  to  make  it  the  largest  and  finest 
stock  ranche  in  the  United  States.  There  are  now  upon  it 
one  thousand  four  hundred  cows,  one  thousand  young  oxen 
and  other  cattle,  three  thousand  sheep,  and  thirty  horses. 
These  great  herds  live  and  flourish  on  the  luxuriant  grasses  : 


THE   FOUNTAIN   COLONY.  95 

in  winter  open  corrals  are  sufficient  shelter.  The  natural 
grasses,  dried  on  the  stalk,  make  better  food  than  Eastern 
hay.  Three  hundred  acres  of  richest  "  bottom  land  "  are 
being  irrigated  for  the  culture  of  wlieat,  oats,  and  roots,  and 
to  scatter  all  this  wealth  abroad,  the  Kansas  Pacific  Railroad 
is  ready  only  twenty  miles  distant.  But  to  us,  who  could 
hardly  bear  to  leave  Colorado  without  a  very  real  prospect 
of  return,  the  most  attractive  project  is  that  of  the  Eldo- 
rado, or  Arcadia,  or  Eden,  if  you  will,  planned  by  Dr.  Bell 
in  Bergun's  Park,  where  Mr.  Thornton's  ranche,  already 
visited  and  written  of  by  us,  is  now  preparing  to  furnish  all 
dairy  and  garden  supplies.  Here  the  beautiful  park,  more 
like  a  carefully  laid  out  landscape  garden  than  the  pure  gem 
of  nature  which  it  is,  is  to  be  made  homelike  by  many 
strong  and  comfortable,  though  rather  rough  and  small,  cot- 
tages. They  are  really  and  truly  being  built  at  this  day  ; 
and  before  we  left  we  saw  sewing  machines  driving  merrily 
at  the  long  seams  of  bed-linen  and  table-damask  destined 
for  the  future  inmates  of  the  cottages.  Families  who  would 
see  Colorado  more  freely,  naturally  and  inexpensively  than 
they  can  in  the  hotels,  can  here  settle  for  the  whole  season 
in  an  enchanting  home,  supplied  with  pure  and  wholesome 
food,  with  fishing,  hunting,  and  endless  attractions  of  scenery 
within  a  little  distance.  Even  ponies  trained  for  ladies  and 
little  people  are  to  be  in  readiness.  We  talk,  this  last  even- 
ing, of  our  Colorado  life  (for  Denver  can  hardly  claim  a 
place  in  that),  of  what  we  hope  to  see  and  do  next  summer 
in   this   paradise  of  Bergun's   Park.     Many  a  dream  we  had 


96  THE   FOUNTAIN   COLONY. 

of  it  while  in  the  camp,  and  in  the  company  of  some  very 
near  and  dear  kindred  spirits  ;  how  we  will  bring  around  us 
for  ourselves  and  the  young  people  the  best  influences,  with 
real  noble  education  of  mind  and  body;  how  we  could  make 
the  beautiful  our  study  under  such  favoring  conditions  as 
surely  nowhere  else  can  fall  to  mortal  lot  ;  how  kid  gloves 
and  conventionalities  should  be  as  things  that  had  never 
been  and  never  could  be.  It  does  not  seem  so  easy  now  as 
it  all  looked  to  us  then  and  there  ;  but,  at  least,  there  is  the 
possibility,  and  I  close  the  portfolio  of  my  Summer's  Etch- 
ings in  Colorado,  and  say  farewell  to  the  glorious  land,  hop- 
ing and  praying  for  the  fulfillment  of  that  sunny  dream  of 
Arcadia  that  came  to  us  under  the  sunset  lighting  Pike's 
Peak,  as  for  the  last  time  we  turned  into  the  tents  gleaming 
beside  the  blazing  pine  logs  of  our  last  camp  fire. 


THE    END. 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN~MPT- 

This  book  is  due  on 
on  the  < 
Renewed  books 


LD  21A-40m-4,'63 
(D647]8l0)476B 


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